


Shades of Grey

by Kirabaros



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-05-29 01:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15061622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirabaros/pseuds/Kirabaros
Summary: Not everything is black and white. Altair struggles to see this as he completes his task of killing his nine targets for Al Mualim. Along the way, an old childhood friend, Selma Al-Fakhir, struggles to find her place as she trudges through a state limbo. Together, they learn more about what the larger picture of the world is and about each other.





	1. Prologue

_1176 CE_

The citadel of Masyaf was one of the largest ever seen. For the little girl standing in the gardens of that great edifice, it was larger than anything she had seen outside her home. It wasn’t much of a comparison since it was her first trip to the citadel. It was to be the first of a long line of visits to the citadel of her father’s longtime friends.

Her robes flapped in the breeze as she gazed upwards. Her dark hair was drawn back into a single braid that trailed down the middle of her back. The shorter locks fell out of the braid and were blowing with the breeze. Her eyes that were an unusual shade, red brown, took in every detail they sought out of the building she had grown to love. She wanted to embed the image in her memory.

While she was looking up, she didn’t seem to see the shadow that glided over the grass of the gardens making its way towards her. In fact, she didn’t know that she wasn’t alone until she was grabbed from behind. She let out a squeal but also retaliated with her feet and her elbows. Her wriggling caused her and her captor to fall to the ground and they burst out laughing.

“You have sharp talons, Little Falcon,” her attacker said as he propped himself up on his forearms. His honey colored eyes looked at her as he smiled and added, “You almost had me, Selma.”

Selma turned her head towards her companion, preferring to remain lying on her back on the grass. She replied, “I did see you. I just let you catch me.” She lifted her head to peer at him and asked, “Unless you wanted me to see you, Altair?”

Altair looked at Selma. At ten years old she was already starting to turn into the beauty she was going to become as a woman. She also was intelligent and very perceptive of things around her. He had never met anyone like her in Masyaf until she arrived two months ago with her father. His father introduced him to her and she asked if he liked to ride horses and of course he said that he did.

They had become fast friends. They went almost everywhere together where it was permitted. One was not usually seen without the other. He showed her everything about the citadel; all the secrets that he had discovered he had shown her. He even started teaching her the things he had been learning and she taught him a few things. It was a good two months.

Selma blinked at Altair, her red brown eyes flickering like those of a falcon, hence the pet name he bestowed upon her the first day they met. He took in her gaze as he replied, “I wanted you to see me because your father is looking for you and I said I would find you. The soldiers are at the gate.”

Selma sighed, not because her father wanted her, but because of the trouble that was currently plaguing Masyaf. Looking up at the clear blue sky she asked, “Why are they attacking us Altair?”

At eleven years old, Altair never expected to be deferred to as someone who could answer such a question with some modicum of knowledge. He shrugged his shoulders and replied, “I don’t know, Little Falcon.”

Selma was silent for a moment as she pondered on her back. Then she sat up quickly and crossed her legs like she was sitting down at the feet of one of the masters to receive instruct with her legs crossed. She took a breath and recited, “We are to know but we do not know.”

“Everything is permitted. Nothing is true,” Altair replied as he took in her thoughtful expression. Since they met, he had never once condemned her intelligence especially when it was clear she had thought long and hard about things. He continued, “I don’t know Little Falcon, but I know your father wants you to come. Father is to take you somewhere safe.” He stood up and offered her a hand up.

Selma looked at the proffered hand and then up at Altair. She reached for his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. She asked, “What about you?”

“I will do what I am told,” Altair replied solemnly as he beckoned her to follow him. He looked away so she wouldn’t see his expression. “The Mentor’s wishes must be obeyed.”

Selma had heard that before. Her father was the master of his order and a similar phrase had been said of him when she questioned one of his orders. His word was command. She knew that it was not worth it to protest so she remained silent on that and followed Altair through the gardens and through the citadel. After a time she couldn’t help but say, “I wish you were going with me.”

Altair wanted to go. If anything it was to make sure she was safe from everything that could hurt her. “I would protect you Little Falcon,” he replied with a quiet conviction. He had been her protector from the other initiates that attempted to torment her. Not everyone was willing to let a woman in to see the secrets of Masyaf. He beckoned with his hand, “Come.”

Selma replied quietly, “Yes Altair,” as she put her hand into his.

They managed to make it to where Altair was supposed to bring her when shouts drew their attention. They turned when they heard the name Umar Ibn-La’ Ahad. They both stopped and looked in the direction of the noise that followed. Selma frowned in confusion, wondering what was going on. She didn’t realize that Altair had pulled her scarf up and put it over her head in an attempt to hide her face but it was done with a distracted air.

For once, Altair disobeyed and headed in the direction of the shouting after making sure Selma’s head was properly covered. His father’s name had been called and he aimed to know why. He forgot that Selma would naturally follow and she did keeping his tall figure in her sight. He parted the way through the crowd, pushing his way through. He pushed through just in time for the pair of them to see his father heading towards the wicker gate.

Selma pushed through behind Altair and managed to squeeze around one of the men to see what was going on. She could see soldiers on the other side of the gate. They looked fierce with swords and weapons and their leader looked… she didn’t like it. It was ugly. She didn’t like him either she decided in her ten year old manner. She also saw a man from Altair’s order being held by the soldiers. He was cut, bleeding and he looked broken. What was going on?

“Father?”

Selma turned to see Altair looking at the retreating form of Umar, his father. She watched as the man paused at the sound of his son’s voice. She opened her mouth to say something but no sound came out. She looked around and wondered why none of the others were doing anything. What had Umar done that he was going out there?

Umar had been their host during their stay. He had met her and her father when they arrived and gave them the tour of the village and the citadel. She liked the man who was very formal with her father and he didn’t show her contempt because she was a girl that was being given the privilege to be privy to the knowledge that was only granted to men. He had introduced his son to her and encouraged their relationship despite what others said.

Selma couldn’t believe that Umar was certainly walking towards his doom. She heard Altair’s continued call for his father as she watched the man go through the gate. Her mouth was open but no sound was coming out. It was like she was being prevented from speaking. She just couldn’t and all she could do was watch.

She watched as the other man that belonged to Altair’s order was shoved through the gate to their side and Umar was grabbed roughly by the soldiers and yanked towards… She took a quick look at the man that had been shoved through. She saw him give a sorrowful look at Altair and her friend turned to look towards the gate and called for his father. She looked up to see her father and the Mentor of the order looking at everything going on. Her father didn’t see her but she could tell that he was looking for her since Altair was making himself be known calling for his father. Her eyes were wide open as she saw the events unfold.

They were wide eyed when the soldiers stretched Umar over a block. It was clear what they were going to do. She could hear Altair calling for his father, the tone indicating that he knew what was going to happen but he couldn’t understand why. She glanced to see that she was right next to him after she felt his robes brush against her. She had been forgotten.

Instinctively, she reached out and grasped the sleeve of his robes. She held on silently as she watched Umar being prepped and she saw the sword gleaming. The next thing she knew she felt Altair’s arms wrapping around her and trying to turn her away as she saw the glint of the blade from the sun. She wrapped her arm around Altair’s arm to hold on as she saw the sword being raised. Her mouth was opened in a silent gasp.

She watched as the blade swung down with a sickening thud. She heard Altair calling out to his father and felt her arms pulling on his arms as if to hold him from running out there. A slight gasp left her mouth as she held on. It was the only sound came out as it hit what she had just seen. Umar Ibn-La’ Ahad was dead and she had witnessed it with her own eyes…


	2. Chapter 2

Basima looked warily around at the land as she urged her horse forward while leading the line of camels that were loaded with trade goods. She followed her father and tried not to show fear but it was difficult since this was one of the more dangerous routes and they were a target… a nice big one. There were many dangers on the road to Damascus but being a merchant trader… it seemed to be the most hazardous of occupations. It was easy if you could afford reputable guards but Basima and her father couldn’t afford that and they could not afford to not go to Damas.

Basima was the only child of her parents, the Nassar family. Her father had wanted a son but got a daughter to raise on his own since her mother died of fever two days after giving birth to her. He never blamed her for that but it was clear that he loved her mother dearly. He didn’t begrudge her either in terms of an education. He taught her the merchant trade since she was very intelligent and could haggle with the best of them. He even taught her the basics of self-defense even though she disliked anything that was related to sword fighting though she was pretty good with a blade. She was very much like the delicate flower that men wanted but the big turn off was that she was outspoken at times.

The trip to Damascus would set them up for a better future. Her father was even entertaining the possibility of staying in that city and making his trade in the suqs that littered the various districts. His reasoning was because trade wasn’t doing so well in their village; they were small fry compared to a couple of bigger merchants and there was the increase of banditry with the oncoming of the crusades and the war for the Holy Land. The Christian dogs claimed that it was theirs while the Muslims said different but that didn’t really bother Basima all that much since she had little to no interest in politics. She was aware of it though since it did affect their livelihood.

The bandits were what made Basima nervous. Her and her father had very valuable trade goods that they had acquired as well as substantial money. It was essentially all that they had. She prayed to Allah that they would have a safe journey; that he would guide them through the paths that were traversed by thieves. It was not to be so.

She knew who they were the moment they showed their faces. It was the group of bandits that the stories had been told of them robbing the merchant caravans. They were part of the merchant king Tamir’s group. They robbed the caravans and stole the good for Tamir who sold them at exorbitant prices for people in desperate need and they left the witnesses for dead. If there were women present then… It was something that Basima didn’t want to think about but she had a very good idea of what would happen.

They charged their group and pulled up alongside her and her father. Basima watched as her father pulled his blade and start to fight. She had to as well considering the scum they were and she was not dressed like a man but wearing hijab as was proper. She pulled out her sword and kicked her horse to urge the beast to follow. She managed to get in a few swipes but they were hardly effective. She was pulled from her horse kicking and screaming. Her father she heard cursing them out. They were in trouble.

The leader was grinning as he rode up on his horse while Basima and her father were brought to him. He grinned as they were shoved to the ground and Basima landed with a grunt, the ends of her scarf touching the desert sands. He dismounted and went to stand in front of them after looking over the lead camel and the goods that were packed on its back. He then kneeled to inspect Basima, reaching out and touching her face. He took pleasure in that she was trembling when he touched her.

“Don’t you touch her!”

Basima gasped a small sob when the leader gave her father a hard backhand across the face. She watched as the leader grabbed her father’s tunic and said, “I’ll do what I like when I like… and she will fetch a mighty fine price to some noble looking for an unspoiled slave.”

“Over my dead body.”

Basima didn’t make a sound. She had gotten the warning look from her father that she was to behave like the demure little girl. She wondered what good that would do now since they had seen her pull out a sword and start to fight. She bit back the sobs that were threatening to come forth and prayed that nothing horrible would come of this.

“Alright then,” the leader said with a mocking nod. He took out his sword and struck with a quick movement.

Basima couldn’t help but scream out loud when she saw her father run through with the blade. She struggled against her captors until she was grabbed hard by the chin by the leader and she let out a whimper. She was told to shut up or he would kill her after having his way with her. She could see the intent in his eyes and felt her body tremble in fear and she struggled when he pulled on her dress.

He didn’t get any further than that for he stumbled forward with a stunned look on his face. Basima moved to let him fall and gasped silently at the arrow protruding from his back. She heard the shouts of the bandits and looked around. She saw more fall from arrows as they shouted trying to figure out where they were coming from. She looked around and spotted a lone figure in the distance and holding a bow.

The robes were a dark grey and they flapped as the breeze of the day blew through. They revealed equally grey trousers and black boots. A crimson sash was tied around the waist and the torso held weaponry and leather protective wear. A sword hung at the figure’s side and the hood was pulled low to reveal only the mouth. The rest of the face was hidden but it was clear that the person could see outward.

Basima watched as her rescuer continued to shoot their bow while advancing towards the site. When the distance was closed, out came the sword. Basima watched as she scuttled to be by her father. She had managed to pick up her own sword just in case but her rescuer seemed to have things well under control as they danced with the remaining bandits until all but one was lying on the ground. The remaining one was trying to get away on the leader’s horse but the rescuer didn’t seem perturbed by it as they put away the sword and brought back up the bow and arrow. Basima couldn’t help but say, “It’s too far.”

The rescuer said nothing but drew back after notching the arrow. With careful aim the arrow was released and it flew through the air. It struck the bandit forcing him to fall off the horse. Basima thought he was dead but was surprised when the body moved. He was still alive!

Basima was staring at the distance when her hands were released. She flew to her father but she knew he was dead. She couldn’t help but call out to him, “Abba.”

Basima realized she was being stared at and looked up to see the hooded rescuer looking down at her. She couldn’t see the face but the posture looked like one of aggression. She gasped a little and was prepared to defend herself. If this person was another bandit, she would let them take everything. What was the point to this now?

It was a daunting few minutes until the hooded figure turned in the direction of the still alive bandit and walked in towards them. Basima felt her jaw open in surprise and closed it as she watched her rescuer kneel beside the downed bandit. It appeared that they were conversing after her rescuer broke the shaft of the arrow. That had to be painful but Basima didn’t care. The dog killed her father so she had no sympathy for them as she cradled her father’s head.

The conversation didn’t last long. Basima didn’t make a sound as she watched her rescuer end the bandit’s life with a blade that had been hidden previously. She did blink when the hooded rescuer reached out and closed the eyes of the bandit and appeared to be saying something to them. She watched as her rescuer stood and walked back over towards her and came to a stop. She had to blink when she heard, “Gather your horses and camels and their horses. I will see to him.”

Basima felt compelled to obey even though she normally would have protested. The voice was low but it had authority to it and she went to do her rescuer’s bidding while the stranger began to wrap up her father’s body. She gathered up the horses, hers, her father’s and the bandits and checked the camels and brought them over and was doubly surprised when the stranger lifted her father up on his horse and secured him saying, “So he receives proper burial.”

Basima was quiet but nodded as she checked everything herself. She almost jumped when she heard a high pitched whistle. She turned to see a black horse trotting over the hill like it was going for a stroll. It came to a stop near the stranger giving a slight toss of its head and a whinny. Basima watched as her rescuer stroked the animal’s nose before climbing onto its back with a grace that Basima envied and turned the horse’s head in the direction they wanted to go and started forward.

Basima couldn’t explain it but she got the feeling that she was supposed to follow and climbed onto her horse and taking the lead, she urged her ‘caravan’ to follow the stranger. She kept her distance behind the stranger and maintained a watchful eye. They were not going in the direction of Damascus but somewhere else. She wanted to ask but remained silent. She was in this stranger’s debt and… she would accept whatever payment was demanded of her.

She was rewarded for her silence when their party came upon a watch tower with a lone guard keeping an eye out. The guard was wearing similar robes to what her rescuer was wearing but the sash was different and he gave a head bow to the stranger. They passed through the gate without much trouble and Basima allowed herself to look around at the village that was teeming with life. She blinked in surprise.

It increased when they were swarmed by villagers. Some were greeting the stranger with cheer and affection at their safe return. Some were helping Basima with her and her things. She thought it best to follow the lead since the people were not out to hurt her it seemed. She didn’t know that the company she had been keeping warranted the attention and the commands would be instantly obeyed. She was nervous about letting them take her father’s body but relaxed when she noticed the stranger didn’t seem too worried by it. Basima looked at the stranger who was surveying everything and asked, “What am I to do?”

Basima’s rescuer moved their head to glance in her direction. The low voice spoke, “You will be taken care of. You will continue onto Damascus.” The owner then turned and started walking away from the crowd with a silent gait that gently parted the crowd and allowed them to be swallowed by it.

Basima looked for the stranger but couldn’t see them. She was directed to follow an elderly woman and looked around. She asked, “And I in some sort of debt?”

“Your life has been safeguarded. It is only fair that you return it,” the woman replied. She gestured at the village, “We are protected and hence we provide service.”

Basima nodded as she was shown a place to rest. She managed to ask, “Who was it that brought me here?”

The elderly woman was moving about the room when she paused and looked at Basima. She replied, “A Master Librarian and Arbiter. Some say that one learned the ways of the Assassins.”

“Assassins?” Basima wondered what world she had stumbled into.

“Only stories child. When you are ready I will take you to whom you are to speak to.”

Basima looked around. She looked out the window of the room and saw a massive citadel. It looked like a guard that protected the village below it. She had heard of stories about an order that was called upon to sit in judgment; various governors sought them out and they were also librarians. They collected knowledge and it was said that they had a vast library. Did they…? “Where am I?”

“Al-Nasrah, the citadel of the Arbiters.”

****

The stables smelled of the horses, hay and donkeys that were kept. There was also the faint smell of camels as well and all were busy with their meals. They paid little to no attention to the woman that was petting the falcon that was sitting on the stall wall of one of the older donkeys and chirping and occasionally giving pecks of affection to the woman as she stroked the soft feathers. It was an atmosphere of contentment for all that were there.

“I heard we have a new set of eyes heading to Damascus.”

The woman didn’t look up but continued to pet the falcon. Her red brown eyes blinked as she ran the back of her first finger on the chest of the bird. She replied, “She is capable. Not one to get dirty but capable.”

The elder man that had spoken when he entered the stables looked at the woman with a tolerant expression. “You were supposed to deliver the tome to Aouda in Damas.”

“I did. I just happened to see Tamir’s bandits on my return,” the woman countered. She paused in her petting and turned to look at her visitor.

“You tracked them specifically when you were not given leave.”

The woman stood up, her robes falling into place. The only thing that wasn’t in place was the hood for it was lowered revealing her true side since the robes hid her figure. She gave a firm look and replied, “And how long were we going to wait until we acted, Father? Until more innocents die?” She paused a moment to look way and then added, “I thought we were Arbiters.” She gave her father a questioning and respectful look.

Ahmed Al-Fakir looked at his daughter now in her twenty-fifth year and already a Master Librarian and Arbiter, the former which usually took a lifetime to achieve and the latter granted because she had exercised wisdom in her judgment and had managed to prevent nations from warring. She made him proud but he was concerned. Normally she would have been married by now and the fact that she was still unwed was disconcerting to some. Looking at her he replied, “We _are_ Arbiters, habibiti. We do have an obligation to dispense justice but we use knowledge to do that. Knowledge guides our hand for we are scholars… seekers of truth.”

“Yes Father, but a scholar can be killed just the same upon a blade.”

“You modified your mother’s argument for requesting your training,” Ahmed replied with a slight smile on his face. “Very clever my daughter.”

“The same principle.”

“Which is why I let your training go on as long as it did,” Ahmed replied, “But it is your words and desire to have the least amount of bloodshed that has earned our rank as it were.”

“Father, I completed my mission and I did chance upon Tamir’s men. They killed her father.”

Ahmed sighed as he watched his daughter looked away thoughtfully and knew she was thinking of that day fifteen years ago. She had never forgotten and it seemed to be a motivation of sorts… not that he blamed her. “Father and child?”

“Yes, Father.”

Ahmed nodded at that. His supposition was correct. “That was a long time ago my daughter.”

“For one, yes. But a similar one occurring with someone else.”

Ahmed watched his daughter as she leaned over to pet the donkey whose stall her falcon was sitting on. The elderly beast made a humming sound and he recalled why that particular beast was there. The story still made him laugh but also reflected her ability to reason and use her knowledge.

“One lived and revealed that Tamir is in Damascus and has been causing problems for a few of the merchants. It is recommended that word should be sent to our brother order.”

Ahmed was well aware of that piece of information. If anything his daughter was very prompt in delivering her information. The old librarian in the archives spoke of as much when she was apprenticed to him for a time. She was thorough and didn’t issue an opinion until she was certain it was warranted. It was why he was a bit reluctant to give her the newest assignment that was agreed upon by the council and backed by him. It was unprecedented but changes had been made and with the crusades raging in the Holy Land…

“Our new eyes can deliver the message.”

“That has been discussed but it is unnecessary for the council and I have reached a decision,” Ahmed said. He watched as his daughter straightened up apparently recognizing that she was going to be asked to do something. “The council is in agreement as am I that we are Arbiters but also seekers of knowledge.”

“I meant no disrespect Father,” the woman said as she lowered her head contritely and prepared for punishment.

“The crusades have wrought change, Daughter,” Ahmed countered as he raised his daughter’s head by using his forefinger to lift her chin. She was hardly subservient and she used that as an advantage when she took to training the guard of the citadel and the few scholars that wished to learn. “We can no longer ignore it and our role is changing. You have shown this with your past assignments. Tamir has long been a blemish with his involvement in trying to poison the citizens of Acre and other activities but it is clear that he is not alone in this.”

“I have noticed as well.”

Ahmed nodded, “It has been decided that the Arbiters will seek out him out, learn what he knows and then cast judgment.”

“Isn’t that more along what our brother order does?”

Ahmed looked at his daughter who was giving him a surprised look. He replied, “Tamir has been our problem since the beginning and we have chosen to give those that want to resist the means of striking back. However it seems that there are things that must be dealt with.” He paused and looked at his daughter and said, “I am telling you this because it is the council’s decision that you be the one to carry this out.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Seek knowledge and deliver justice,” Ahmed replied with a nod. “It is unusual but you are the first to expand upon our role…”

“I understand Father. I will head to Damas,” she replied.

Ahmed put his hands on his daughter’s shoulders. He looked at her knowing that he was sending her into a realm that she was formally given sanction to perform in. He sighed and said, “You are like your mother Selma Al-Fakir. She saw that we would need to change. Go with Allah.”

His daughter nodded and proceeded to prepare to leave. He almost had to chuckle when she lifted her bird onto her hand and it perched on her shoulder. He watched as she rode out to lead this change of times for their order.


	3. Chapter 3

Damascus. Selma rarely saw the large cities that were bustling of trade unless she had duties that brought her to one. Mostly she stayed with the villages near Al-Nasrah. As she looked down at the entrance to the city, she gave a wry smile as she recalled a memory where she was part of an entourage of one Farid Ibn Al-Hara, a noble of sorts, possibly a prince or something like that. She didn’t quite remember since that didn’t interest her but she had been interested in the death threat that had been set against him.

Farid was a learned man and he believed that peace could be achieved between the Muslims and the Christians. He was part of the delegation that was to design possible peace treaties and end the crusades. Her role in this was that of a bodyguard, an odd position if her face had been revealed. However, she had gone in with her full robes and that part was moot to the others. She was also a scholar though and she couldn’t resist drinking in his ideas. It surprised him greatly when he learned of her true identity and that she could follow what he was trying to do.

He was a kind and generous man in that he would engage her in conversations and treated her as an equal. He sought her opinion on his workings for peace and listened. In the end, he offered her marriage but she refused citing duty to the order as her reason. He respected her decision and instead gave her a medallion with his family name woven in fancy Arabic. It was as good as a signet ring and signified her acceptance by him and his family. It especially helped when she saved his life from assassination by a dissident member of his family.

She ended up travelling with him on the rest of his journey towards his home. She ended up watching out for his welfare as well as conducting intellectual conversations. Never once he ridiculed her suggestions or anything she said. He called her a scholar and claimed that she was intelligent as well as beautiful. He ended up offering marriage once more but she had to refuse him again. It would have been a good life but she couldn’t see herself completely happy.

It was to become a friendship that would last for years. After she returned to the citadel, Farid started sending her letters. They always contained a question or two that would require a well thought out answer and one that she delivered. She gave him advice on the dissidence that occurred in his homeland as well as how to assert his role within his family. Politics and wisdom she was able to give him advice on but she was a complete novice when it came to the moment he chose his bride who was intelligent and beautiful even though she couldn’t read or write. The last she heard, he was teaching his bride those very things and they both were very much in love. She even became friends with the bride once the girl realized that she had no intentions beyond friendship with Farid.

Despite her ability to kill, Selma preferred diplomacy to solving issues. She avoided violence wherever possible and only raised her blade as a last resort. Her ways cemented her reputation as an Arbiter and her ability to learn and exchange knowledge in a friendly manner raised her to the rank of Master Librarian, an unprecedented event in the history of the order. Now she was committing another unprecedented event.

Selma entered the city after paying a boy at the stables outside the gates to look after her horse. She looked at the city from the ground and pondered about her mission. Glancing upwards she spotted her falcon circling above the buildings always within sight of her. He would follow her unless given the command to stay though she suspected he took liberties at times and would come on command whether by her calling his name or just holding up her gloved hand. He was her friend and constant companion since she found him as a baby and raised him. She walked through the city as if she belonged, wondering if she should pay a visit to the Bureau of the brotherhood she knew. It would be a courtesy but she couldn’t help but wonder if she would be remembered. Would they take kindly to her? Five years was a long time and a short time to cause hard feelings.

She also had a thought about the brotherhood and whether or not they would be at work. It was a silly thought since they always had something at work. While at face value they seemed like cold blooded killers, they weren’t. She had seen that and she knew they took the creed seriously. Their targets were men that threatened the overall stability of the land. Right now things were hardly stable.

She thought the crusades to be foolish. She had made that statement once and had been accused of being an addle-headed woman but she never changed her belief. Farid agreed with her. The Holy Land didn’t belong to just one group but to all. There was history that interlocked between the various groups that claimed the Holy Land was significant to their faith. The crusades were nothing more than man’s greed at play under the guise of a holy war to defend the Holy Land against the infidels.

For centuries men have used God or Allah or whatever deity as an excuse to invade another man’s home and take it because that deity said so. The arguments of bringing civilization to the barbarians were equally ridiculous in that it came down to the question of who truly was the savage. It was a source of debate that she loved discussing with Farid. They would argue their points and then play the devil’s advocate by arguing the opposite view. It was almost like a game between them and on occasion Farid’s bride would enter and Selma loved hearing that woman’s opinion since she had much to say even though her education was rudimentary.

Deciding to visit the Bureau later, if only for a courtesy, Selma took to the rooftops and made her way through the city in no particular direction, at first, but more as an attempt to stretch her wings so to speak. She eventually settled on a direction and headed towards the suq in the Poor District. To her it made sense since Tamir was a black market merchant and often it was easier to operate in a place where the people wouldn’t be able to put up much protest. More likely that man would be ruling that place with an iron fist but she mustn’t be hasty. She was a seeker of knowledge after all.

The rooftops granted fast access and in truth being able to run across the ledges and rooftops with little fear was an asset of hers. She could fly across the ledges of the citadel at home without fear of the jumps; she was a natural. She felt like she was flying every time she ran across the heights most people wouldn’t think of taking.

_You have always belonged in the sky, Little Falcon._

Selma felt her breath hitch slightly as she paused to scan her surroundings while reflecting on the memory that came to mind. Where was her old friend Altair now? Was he Master Assassin now? Did he remember as she did when they used to fly across the ledges and towers of the citadel at Masyaf?

She actually had thought about her childhood friend ever since they had parted five years ago. She had been twenty at the time and her training with the Assassins was completed and she was to return to Al-Nasrah for her more intensive training as an Arbiter. Al-Mualim had things to say about her progress at the time but she recalled her sadness at leaving. Altair made it a parting to remember. They were to have a last ‘flight’ that would end with a Leap of Faith with him leading the way.

Selma could remember like it was yesterday. Altair had persuaded her to go on one last race on the ledges and walls. He led and she followed like she always did though she did lead and he followed when she chose to have a race. He picked challenges that no adept novice would go through and she took the challenge like it was a game and it was. It ended at the tower where they would jump into the haystacks below. She could recall how liberating it felt when she jumped off the edge and fell into the hay. It always felt the same way when she did it at other times and she never tired of it.

Altair had not been finished though. Instead of heading back up the hill towards the citadel, he took her to a place that was well hidden from that stone edifice’s view. It was not really proper for her to be going anywhere with a man alone but she trusted Altair; she had since the day they had been introduced and he had been adamant in not violating that trust. Even though he had become somber and perhaps angry after his father’s execution, he had never been harsh or cruel towards her especially when his temper was short and never used it as an excuse to even attempt to take advantage of her. In fact she could recall several instances where he lashed out violently when he perceived her to be in trouble with the other Assassins.

She had never been to the place he brought her to before but it was clear that Altair had. It was an oasis that had been isolated from the view of the village and the citadel. They wouldn’t be seen but they could see everything else and it was peaceful. It was there that Altair said his goodbye and overstepped his boundaries just once by giving her a kiss on the cheek. She had been bold then and returned it with one of her own on his cheek and she had blushed. It was one of the reasons she never forgot that day. One day she hoped to return to Masyaf and to that place.

Turning in the direction of the suq, she started off again. She found the place to be lively with the daily trade. Stalls were open with their wares displayed and their merchant owners shouting out to those passing by that theirs were the finest. She could see that she could easily blend in with the crowd and it was just a matter of easing into the masses and looking around. She pulled her hood up to hide her features and make her appear like a man.

Damas was a city one could easily hide in. The others within the Holy Land were like that as well. Selma noted the scholars that were milling about in their groups and her scholar’s mind was drawn to them but she knew she wouldn’t be able to blend in. Her robes were reflective of her rank and of the order she served. She would be recognized as an Arbiter amongst scholars and that could prove a distraction. It was best to be someone from the shadows and oddly and not so oddly enough, that was reflective of what the brotherhood was about.

She could see that Tamir did indeed rule this suq by fear with his fist clenched tightly. She saw the look of fear in the eyes of the people as she walked through and she heard the whispers of that man’s name. One conversation she happened to chance upon and she paused to listen.

“He called another meeting.”

“What this time?”

“Fayid failed to return. Rumor has it they were ambushed… by them.”

Selma turned slightly so as not to appear she was listening. She heard the reply, “Them?”

“The Arbiters.”

“That is ridiculous. They are nothing like the Assassins. Surely you are mistaken. Anyway he wants us to find the girl. She has what he wants.”

Selma felt a pang of alarm when she heard they were looking for the girl she had rescued. She would have to find her if she had made it to Damas or make so that they would be able to not follow the edict from Tamir. She would be slower since she would have a caravan. It was one more thing she had to worry about and a fine example of how her actions affected others. Sighing she turned to walk through the suq and come up with a plan.

“None know Tamir better than I. Come close. Hear the tale that I have to tell. Of a merchant prince with peer…”

Selma turned towards the bellowing orator. She noticed that the two that had been listening grew fearful and crept away. She edged towards the crowd that was gathering. Perhaps this tale could be of some interest even if it was only embellishment. Besides knowledge was said to come from all sources even if they are distasteful to some.

“It was before Haltin,” the orator was saying, “The Saracens were low on food and in desperate need of resupply but there was no relief in sight. In those days Tamir drove a caravan between Damas and Jerusalem but recent business has been poor…”

Selma listened to the virtues extolled by the orator while taking note of the whispered murmurs from those that were listening. There was probably some truth to this so she wasn’t going to completely dismiss the tale. She turned her gaze towards the people and saw the fear that was on their faces. They were in a poor district and had no champion or they didn’t know how they could stand up against a powerful man. She had seen it before and she had seen how easy it was for people to become dependent on a champion. No matter though. She was here on a mission.

With each passing moment, she was becoming more convinced that the judgment against Tamir was to be justified. Each crime was another knife of damnation. True she was well aware of his crimes before now but she also had to take into account the current evidence unfolding before her. She guessed that this orator may know where to find Tamir. She would interrogate him when he was finished and she caught him alone. She dissolved into the crowd to look for a vantage point to move when the timing was right.

The orator finished and started to leave. Selma made to follow not seeing that there was someone else who wished to speak with the orator. She followed but stopped when the orator knocked over a woman carrying a large ceramic jar. The jar was shattered and the woman made ready to demand payment for it but was stilled by the withering gaze the orator gave her as he raised his hand to strike. Selma took a step forward.

“Beware for the eyes of judgment are watching!”

The crowd paused as well as the orator and eyes started to look around. Selma did the same and her eyes lighted on a young boy of fourteen who was looking right at the orator like he was going to spring forward and kill him. The boy then started moving through the crowd and repeated what he had said every so often. It was a good effect since people couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Selma just watched as the boy moved as he repeated himself or said a variant, “Judgment will come to Tamir!”

The boy left the crowd in confusion and the orator in fear. She had to make a choice. In the end she followed the boy. While it wasn’t logical to do so, her instincts told her that the boy may have something that could prove useful to her. Perhaps it would be able to help her if she went to the Bureau.

It wasn’t hard to catch up with the boy since Selma had several advantages. She managed to get ahead of him and surprise him thoroughly when he rounded the corner. She said, “To speak of someone’s judgment without proof can be dangerous especially for one so young.”

The boy stumbled and fell backwards towards the ground. He sat up and retorted, “There is plenty of proof. None are brave enough to pass it.” He then narrowed his eyes after taking a good look at Selma and asked, “What do you know about it?”

“Enough that such could be settled by certain means,” Selma replied as she leaned against the wall she had taken refuge against to wait for the boy. “There are plenty that could do such a thing. One simply has to look.”

“And who would do such a thing?”

“What of the Arbiters?”

The boy made a slight snorting sound, “And what would they do? They may be able to hand down judgment but never has there been a case where one would administer it. They are nothing but scholars.”

“I agree and disagree.”

The boy stood up and dusted himself off and looked at Selma. He allowed, “I admit that they are fair in judgment. Their word is respected… but I have never seen one wield a blade. How can someone pass judgment if they are not willing to administer it?”

“That is a good point,” Selma allowed. It was something she had spoken to her father of on numerous occasions. It was always discussion but never put into action. Now it seemed that the Arbiters were paying the price for their seeming indifference. “However, often words prove a more potent weapon than a blade.”

“Not here. Not with Tamir.”

“Tell me about it,” Selma encouraged.

The boy looked at her with suspicion but his eagerness to tell someone who was willing to listen won over and he said, “Tamir is a merchant king. He had long supplied things that people needed but he has grown greedy. He charges much for something simple. Now he had a master that demands weapons. He has under his control blacksmiths and other merchants. For whom the blades and armor are for… they are not for Salah Al’din.”

“Do you know who?”

“They are for someone else. The shape of them are not like the swords of Al’din’s men,” the boy replied. “The crests are not like anything I have seen before. But Tamir is an impatient man. He is demanding that they have his shipment ready and he is already upset by the loss of his men in the desert.”

Selma studied the boy. He was a good fount of information. She noticed his hands earlier when he was moving away from the crowd. She asked, “How do you know this?”

“Everyone knows. People do talk but they are afraid.”

“Indeed.”

Selma mused about it some but they were interrupted when a group of armed men appeared and pointed at the boy, “There he is! Catch the thief!”

Selma was well aware that the men were Tamir’s men. She recognized them from her wanderings around the city before heading to the suq. She looked at the boy who was looking alarmed that he had a likely chance of being captured. Making a decision she grabbed the boy by the arm and yanked him with her indicating he was to run with her.

It was a chase. The boy saw it as a race for his life. Selma, in a fit of childish pleasure, saw it as a game for a brief moment before switching over to intense concentration and working to evade the guards. She managed to find their escape by scaling a scaffolding to take to the rooftops. She ended up dragging the boy and took refuge within a rooftop garden. She ended up pinning the boy with her hand over his mouth while she listened for any sound related to their chasers.

When she was sure they were gone she uncovered the boy’s mouth and he got a good look of her red brown eyes. He seemed mesmerized by them. She said, “Perhaps your primary profession you should stick to but to those that may deserve it.” She pointed at his pouch and the others that were full of coin.

“I do.” The boy looked at her and asked, “Who are you?”

“Consider me a friend,” Selma replied as she straightened her hood. She adjusted her position and then asked, “How about you tell me what you know of Tamir and his operation? Satisfy my need to know and you will be free to go.”

“You won’t kill me?”

“You haven’t given me a reason to.”

The boy looked at her. He nodded, “Alright. What do you want to know?”

“Your name.”

“Azize.”


	4. Chapter 4

It was habit to rise early for Selma and she was ready to continue with her investigations the day before. She stretched her muscles and looked around to see the various boys and girls she had met yesterday still asleep. She shook her head in an almost motherly fashion but she couldn’t help but smile. It was like a joke to her.

They were a guild of thieves… mostly pickpockets but occasionally they did things that helped the less fortunate people of the city; specifically the ones that had been affected deeply by the war. They were children mostly; the orphaned and abandoned that made up the ranks. There were a couple of adults if you could count the eldest at seventeen an adult. Azize was sixteen and his friend and protector Khalil was the seventeen year old and they ran the merry little band.

Selma was impressed at the organization of the group. They never stole more than what they needed and those that were able to find work shared their money to buy what was needed. What was lacking in money, they had in contacts and friendships throughout the city. They protested against the oppression even though they were for Al’din in terms of driving out the Crusaders.

After rescuing Azize and he gave her what she wanted to know about Tamir, he offered her a place to stay for the night. It had been a bit tense since Khalil wasn’t sure if he was going to trust her. It didn’t matter that she was an Arbiter though it did give some credence. Also her role in saving Azize gave her credibility with them and they let her stay.

She spent the night enjoying a simple but filling meal and entertaining the younger ones. She had no intention of getting too close to them since they had their ways and she sensed Khalil was protective of the children. However, the youngest being five and a pretty bright little boy, he decided to climb into her lap and start asking her questions. Mostly they were about her robes and why she dressed like a man.

In the end, she told them the story of the Arbiters and how they came to be. She started with one and ended with all of younger thieves while the elder ones were doing their various chores for the night. She ended up telling them other stories that she had learned from her various travels including the ones she learn from a Bedouin tribe she came across when she and her companion had been attacked by bandits on the way to Acre. It entertained them enough to put them to sleep and she was going to leave to find an empty tower to haunt for the night when she was given refuge for the night.

She looked down from her choice of sleeping place and climbed down to check on them. She couldn’t resist starting something for them to eat and couldn’t help but remember how many times she did that on occasion for the novices at Al-Nasrah. She may have been that Master’s daughter but she was also one of the Order and each contributed to the well being of the whole. She just happened to have a skilled means of making things pleasant with the simplest of things.

She started on a wheat and oat mixture that the English called oatmeal which, with the right ingredients, tasted good and was quite filling. She looked up when she heard her falcon chirp from his perch and she smiled. She cooed at him and held up a hand with a piece of dried meat for him. She smiled when he performed his customary swoop and grab. He took it from her fingers so gently that no one would have guessed him capable.

“He is magnificent.”

Selma turned to see Azize and Khalil coming in. Their hair was tousled and their eyes still held sleep. They reminded her of two other people she once knew that looked like that at times. They scowled at her when she laughed that time. She replied, “He is my beloved friend.”

Khalil raised his brow and went to get a drink of water while Azize frowned and said, “Beloved?”

Selma chuckled, “He’s my constant companion ever since he was a hatchling. He watches out for me and in turn I give him shelter when he needs it.” The relationship went deeper than that but most people didn’t understand how one could bond deeply with an animal. “He is my friend even though he is a son of none.”

Azize was confused but accepted it. He figured it was an Arbiter thing. Most of what they said and did was on the mysterious side. This one was an oddity to him since she could fight and she had a falcon that was her friend. He was curious and queried, “Son of none?”

“He was abandoned as a hatchling. For what reason, I do not know. I took him in and gave him the name Ibn La’Ahad.” It was a partial truth but also in honor of her childhood friend’s father. It was a private observation from long ago that she remembered and kept to herself. She didn’t know why at the time and when she saw Ibn, as she referred to the falcon, she came closer to an answer and gave that bird of prey that name.

“He looks tame.”

“He is some of the time,” Selma replied with a teasing glint in her eyes. She knew that Ibn could be impish when he felt like it. He was also fiercely loyal and a fairly good judge of character and had interesting ways of showing it. He had kept her from serious trouble more than she could count and it was why he was her beloved friend.

She finished her concoction and urged the eldest boys to try it. She smirked when they wrinkled their noses at it, clearly not familiar with it. She pulled a couple of sugar cubes from a sack she had found and put them in along with a gentle helping of camel’s milk. For some reason it tasted better than goat’s milk. She laughed when they tried it and then started slurping it like it was the last meal they were going to eat. Her laughing had them blush and they slowed to eating like ‘civilized’ people just as the others came in and she served them.

“For an Arbiter you know how to cook good.”

Selma looked at the youngest named Hakim and kneeled to be eye level with him. She held out his bowl and said, “All Arbiters learn to cook. Some are better than others.” She gave a gentle rub to the boy’s hair before standing and smiling as they ate.

In being given free reign in terms of obtaining an education, she learned to be open to new ideas. She kept in mind the traditional ways and thought about them along with new ones. She didn’t like the fact that the orphaned and abandoned were socially regarded as inferior and the whole issue with women, she didn’t touch unless she was in a mood to go to war over it. The little thieves guild here were nothing more than children and they had to grow up fast but from her understanding she could see that they had a good life. While she didn’t approve of stealing per se, in their world… she accepted it and it seemed that Azize and Khalil were trying to get legitimate even if it was underground. It had her thinking.

“You really are an Arbiter. You think constantly.”

Selma was picking up her bow and slinging it on her shoulders. She looked at Azize and replied, “Just an idea. You could expand your guild to other places like Acre or Jerusalem. Connections in other cities can help those that come to you. There would be more to give as they are obtained through more legitimate means.”

Azize looked at Selma. He had never met a woman who was an Arbiter and well-spoken before. She was intelligent and her ideas had merit. It was something he would speak to Khalil about. He watched as she prepared to leave and said, “The suq will be heavy with guards today since Tamir will be there.”

“I know,” Selma replied as she opened the window and peered out. She could climb out and then drop to the roof below. “You implied as such with your quick fingers.” She cast a playful smirk reminding the boy that she had caught him stealing.

Azize blushed since it was a gentle scolding. He watched as she started to climb out the window. She was an oddity. He looked at Khalil and when his friend gave him the nod he turned to see her almost out the window. He called, “When you are finished, come and stay.”

Selma looked down at the boy and nodded. “Safety and peace little thief.”

Azize normally would have scowled at being referred to as little but the way she said it didn’t rankle. He replied, “And to you Arbiter.” He heard a chirp and the falcon flew from his perch and out the window nearly startling him but he couldn’t help but grin.

Selma took to the rooftops easily, loving the feel of not being hindered by anything. She did keep an eye out for the city guards that also patrolled the rooftops just as it was when she was younger. It was like the games she used to play with the novices put into practice. When she couldn’t use the rooftops, she used the dark alleyways and the shadows they provided and continued towards the suq where she knew the black market merchant Tamir would be until she finally made it and was drawn to what looked like a ceremonial courtyard.

Her first impression of Tamir was that he gave the impression that he was king of that district and carried himself as such. Basically it was a man who professed assertion and self-confidence but he was also full of himself. Other observations she had gleaned from reports and what she had seen since he started becoming a thorn in their side. His clothing looked opulent since she was one that looked for utilitarian purposes when it came to clothing. The only exception was a set of clothes for a woman that Farid gave her when he presented her to his circle of friends as a scholar of some repute. She still had them since she considered other possibilities for them if the occasion called for it.

Staying in the shadows on the rooftops, she maneuvered to get a better view of her accused. She narrowed her eyes at the sight of the man bullying a poor merchant who looked like he sacrificed his health to do the bidding of the man and was cowering on the ground. She glanced to see that the city guards were not going to help. She would have snorted her disgust but didn’t since she spotted something that she thought was a trick of the mind. She peered closer as she observed the scene from her perch.

“I have done all I can,” the merchant said with a quivering voice, “The men work night and day but your client requires so much…”

Listening to the conversation, Selma picked out that Tamir was not in business for himself. Rather he was doing something for someone else and from the implication and the information Azize supplied, it appeared that it was big. She sighed since it was a larger plot and that meant traveling to the other major cities to learn more. It also brightened at the prospect of returning to Masyaf since she couldn’t exclude the Brotherhood. For now her focus was on Tamir.

“It is not enough,” Tamir was saying in frustration, “I gave you everything. Without me you would still be charming serpents for coin. All I ask in return was that you fill the orders I bring you. You think I ask too much?”

The dagger came out and Selma resisted the urge to react. She could do nothing for the poor soul without drawing attention to herself. She gave a silent gasp as she watched Tamir slash the belly of the cowering merchant before plunging it deep into the body. She had seen death before but it always made her shudder at the cruel ways men took to killing their victims. At least the Brotherhood did it swiftly and with little pain. This man didn’t care as she watched him stab the body repeatedly until he finished and left it there to rot.

Right then and there, Selma declared his fate to be sealed. He would die that day. She just needed to find a place to strike. She moved along and noticed that someone else was following the condemned. She paused as she recognized the white robes of the Assassins of Masyaf. She turned to look and determine who it was even though the hood was pulled over their head and low. After a few moments she grinned and decided to follow and observe.

She wasn’t angered that someone else was to do the deed. No doubt Tamir’s deeds had reached the ears of Al Mualim. Besides, it had been some time since she had seen Altair perform an assassination. She moved to have position that would keep her hidden but also to observe her old friend and perhaps see if he would realize that he was being watched.

She knew it was Altair by the way he stood. Even if he were to stand with his other brothers in a crowd and all had their hoods up, she could find him. Partly it was because she learned to recognize how the various brothers moved. For instance Malik had a tall straight gait that was swift and strong. She also learned how to tell who was older and who was younger; these were the signs that hunters used applied to people. The other part was something she preferred to keep to herself. Besides, she always said that Altair was a soaring eagle and when she was being impish a strutting eagle.

It was a clean kill. She watched Altair slink past the bodyguards without being noticed and he pounced on the condemned. She adjusted her position slightly as she watched the two converse with each other. She was not an Assassin but she knew that when they made their kills, they wished the souls of the dead to the other side. They were not coldblooded and many of the brothers she knew did practice the faith of Islam.

Watching Altair, she heard Tamir raise his voice slightly and call out to the Arbiters. Somehow she got the impression that he was talking to her but then again it could have been any of the others. She didn’t dismiss it completely but tucked it away at the back of her mind as she watched Altair stiffen slightly and look around. He knew he was being watched and she couldn’t help but smile. “The eagle is caught but you can’t see from where,” she murmured in that teasing voice she used when they were younger.

She stood and moved to a different place almost like she was loping along like a predator. She still had the Eagle of Masyaf in her sights and she watched with a grin as he looked where she had been previously. He knew and she could see that he was uncomfortable with it. She watched him stand up and look around and she noticed the bodyguards were wondering where their boss was. She slipped her bow to give Altair a hand when he started taking to the rooftops and headed towards where the Bureau would be.

Lowering her bow, Selma thought for a moment and then move to follow the Assassin. There was some distance between them but she would catch up easily. She could tell that Altair suspected he was being followed and changed direction to lead her away from the Bureau. She couldn’t help but grin as she ran after him. If she wanted to, she could pull back and let him get comfortable so he could head back to the Bureau.

_Make it into a game. Toy with them. Make them think they are safe._

It may have been five years and much had happened in both their lives. Selma could see that it was going to take more than just showing up at the Bureau to truly say hello. If it were reversed, he would have done the same and probably a bit more heavy handed than she would. She decided to play with Altair if only to see if he would remember that game that led to an argument that widened already existing rifts.

_It was a bright day and Malik and Altair were practicing stealth maneuvers particularly in tracking things. They had decided to play a prank on one of their trainers who was teaching the younger novices. They were arguing over the best way to sneak up on him when she came out with a bow slung over her shoulders with a quiver. They paused trying not to laugh since she still was small even though she was thirteen._

_Selma looked at the pair and asked what they were doing. Malik simply said in his usual gruff manner that didn’t bother her at all, “Nothing. Go about your business. Novice.”_

_It was more bark than bite and Selma retorted, “I could say the same to you… Novice.”_

_It had all of them laughing. Altair’s honey colored eyes seemed to dance. They always did when she made him laugh. He explained, “We are practicing stealth. We want to sneak up on Amad.”_

_Selma shook her head slightly, “He will see you coming before you get within the training grounds.” She then turned away to think as her features created a slight frown. Her lip formed a slight pout and she was unaware of the looks both were giving her._

_“And what do you propose,” Malik countered trying to hide his emotions from Altair who started to stiffen into that protective stance he assumed._

_“Why don’t you and Malik make it like a game?” Selma finally said as she looked at the pair. “Make it into a game. Toy with them. Make them think they are safe.”_

_It was simple and they tried it. It became a handy piece of advice and also what would save Altair from the business end of Abbas’ blade. It would also be the cause of humiliation to Abbas that furthered his anger._

It was a simple piece of advice that she used. If she hadn’t Abbas would have killed Altair and made it seem like it was an accident. The rift between the boys was something that grew into intense hatred, more on Abbas’ side than Altair’s. If she hadn’t followed… the outcome would have been very different. Perhaps it was risky to even attempt to toy with Altair but she knew him. Even though she had heard things about him, she knew him and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Still she would be cautious. One didn’t get to be a Master Assassin without being as skilled as he was. It would be a friendly game.

She chased him around the city until darkness started to pull her cloak over Damascus. She slowed when she saw him jump down and started walking. She followed him to an inn that was of lesser repute and watched as he looked around before he went in. She could follow but she figured that he went there to lose her. She chuckled thinking how to best tease her old friend.

She sat on the roof and studied the inn as she pulled out a piece of parchment. She looked at it and realized it was the drawing that one of her little thieves had drawn and given her the other night. She smiled since they looked like her friend’s eyes with the same alertness but the boy said that they were hers. She had been amused by the assessment since only one other dared to compare her eyes to those of one of the birds of prey she was chasing.

“The news is spreading through the city about Tamir.”

Selma looked at Azize who came and sat beside her. “Satisfaction should be had then now that one who has caused suffering is dead.”

“True. People are rejoicing.” Azize looked at the inn and then at Selma. “What you are looking for is in there no?”

“Perhaps but I worry that you ask too much.” Selma lifted her head so it appeared that she was looking forward while she glanced around the edge of her hood. “There is nothing wrong with knowing but you must be prepared to accept the consequences that come from what you seek.”

“I’m sixteen.”

 “And in most cases considered a man but a young man nevertheless.”

Azize sighed. There was that maddening confusion known of the Arbiters. He looked at the Arbiter as she stared at the inn. He glanced down to see the parchment in her hands. Suddenly the faintest traces of a smile appeared on her face. He ventured, “You wish to do something.”

“Perhaps.”

“Do you require assistance?” Azize looked at her trying to be patient with the fact that she suddenly seemed secretive.

Selma turned to look at Azize. She gave a slow smile and replied, “I require the assistance of a thief who knows how to get in and out without being seen. Do you know of such?”

Azize couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t what he did normally but he was willing. It sounded like fun. “I do. What can I do?”

Selma smiled and picked out a quill and ink from within one of the pockets of her robes. She scrawled something underneath the drawing and folded it in half. She handed it over to Azize and whispered what she wanted him to do and sent him off while she called for Ibn. That fine feathered friend came and she spoke to him in a low voice before letting him go and moving to find her place.

She watched Azize leave the inn and give her the signal and she returned it. She liked the boy and he seemed to like her more like someone for guidance. He was good at leading. It would shape the man he would be. Her gaze was diverted when she heard the door to the inn open and out came her soaring eagle looking around. She knew that it would get his attention.

Ibn chirped from where he had taken root and she watched the scene. She had moved back enough so that Altair would feel comfortable and head back to the Bureau. She watched with interest as he stared at Ibn. He always seemed to have a way with the birds of prey. Certainly the eagles liked him such as the one at Masyaf.

She watched as he looked around. He knew he had been followed and he was good enough to look around to see if he was still being watched. It was death to an Assassin if they carelessly left themselves open. She smiled softly as she watched him look around. She couldn’t see his face but it didn’t matter. She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them as she watched with interest as he waited for Ibn to fly away before turning to head to the Bureau. She noticed that he kept the parchment and put it into the pouch tied to his waist.

When he took to the rooftops she stood up. Grabbing her bow she slung it over her shoulders and moved to watch the direction he was heading in. Perhaps it was a cruel game but… She would follow Altair. Something told her that she should and there was the niggling thought that it had to do with Tamir and the fact that the conversation she overheard plus her information led to something that should be investigated. There was another part though.

Selma took a breath having judged sufficient distance was between her and Altair and took off after him. She ran across the rooftops lightly on her feet silently leaping across the gaps in the streets. It was strange that she was seeing Altair to the Bureau but it didn’t bother her in the least. She was seeing to the welfare of a friend while plotting means of keeping him on his toes.

He wasn’t aware of her since he went straight to the Bureau and tumbled in with grace through the hole in the roof. She gave a slight grin as Ibn came to rest on her shoulder. She pulled out a piece of dried meat and held it out to him. She looked at her friend and asked, “Well my friend, day is done. Shall we continue tomorrow?”

Ibn merely chirped. He then playfully tweaked her hood. He gave a slight cooing sound before taking leave of her shoulder. Selma chuckled and turned to head back to her little merry band of thieves. She returned to warm greetings and news that they were going to expand. It had been an interesting and good day.


	5. Chapter 5

Al Mualim had been pleased by Altair’s report and his presentation of the bloodied feather. The first of the nine had been executed and Altair’s path towards penance was just beginning. It was a small step and while he had been frustrated at his restrictions, Altair was willing to see the wisdom in it. He had a rank restored to him but it was clear that he was far from being what he had been. He fingered his gauntlet as he walked towards the stables to fetch Kifah.

He paused along the way to look around. Ever since he sensed that he had been watched and followed in Damas, he had been wary of his surroundings. He hadn’t seen anyone since then but he was wary. He suspected that Al Mualim may have had one of his brothers tail him to make sure that he was doing his job and it had him annoyed that the master thought he needed a babysitter.

Kifah whinnied to break his concentration. Altair couldn’t help but smile as he reached out and stroked her nose. She snorted and bumped him in the chest. He replied with affection, “Kifah. Always ready to go.”

Kifah rumbled as Altair checked the saddle bags for his supplies. It was a two to three day ride to the port city of Acre where his next target Garnier de Naplouse was located. She was ready to go after a two day rest and already pawing the ground. Rummaging through his bag, he came across the parchment with the eyes of a bird of prey, probably an eagle or a falcon. He pulled it out and took a look at it remembering the falcon that night.

Kifah’s impatient snorting and gentle head butt got his attention and he folded it and put it in a pouch on his belt. He climbed up on Kifah and said, “Kifah you are too impatient. It’s going to get you into trouble.”

Kifah only whinnied as Altair directed her head to the road that would lead to Acre. She didn’t even wait for the prodding of his boots and took off once he gave her head. It was one of her tricks to try and get him unsettled but he was ready for it and couldn’t help but grin as he steadied his seat. The mare was in high spirits today and he let her have her head for a short while. He chided gently when she resisted to his slowing her pace since the day was hot.

_You take your impatience and frustration out on one that does you know harm. Be nice._

Altair couldn’t help but snort at that. Memories of her were frequent nowadays. The truth was he thought about her a lot after she left Masyaf. Honestly he thought it was better she did since things were not as well as they could have been. And she was considered a beauty, a dangerous thing to be at the time. He could still remember though that although she was beautiful, she was firm like the Master when she was angry or disappointed. Master Assassins cowered under her stare and she was younger than they were. She had earned the right in his mind and no doubt she took back what she learned to the other Arbiters.

Kifah snorted at the pace. She wanted to run. Altair was somewhat distracted from his thoughts at her impatience. He couldn’t help but click his tongue in an annoyed fashion and he was reminded of himself and what happened in Solomon’s temple. He had failed and now his shame was branded into the view of the Brotherhood. He said, “Kifah.”

The horse nickered not liking that she was being rebuked. It was much like his situation. He didn’t like the fact that he was being made to redeem himself. He rubbed the sweet spot on her neck to show that he still cared and she rumbled her satisfied rumble. It didn’t mean she forgave him and he knew that. She was fickle like a woman.

The day went into the night and Altair gave Kifah her head to let her run a little bit during the night before he stopped to rest. Having traveled between Masyaf and the cities of Acre, Jerusalem and Damascus, he knew where the best spots were to pitch camp; the ones where he wouldn’t be disturbed by other travelers that happened to be going by.

Seeing to Kifah's comfort for the night, Altair prepared for his rest and found himself staring up at the night sky. His sleep was not disturbed and he woke up feeling refreshed and ready to continue onto Acre. Kifah was ready to go and she waited impatiently for him to mount and with a stomp of her forefeet, she took off. The only time she indicated a change of pace was when a couple of bandits decided he was worth trying to rob.

It was a quick dispatch and the would be thieves were either dead or slinking away like the cowards they were. He took care not to use his hidden blade since that would give him away and he didn’t need the extra scrutiny of enemies. He continued onward and heeded Kifah’s insistence at the speed. He made it to Acre by nightfall of the third day. It wasn’t ideal but he was there and an Assassin completed his mission no matter what time of day it was. He brushed away his tiredness and dismounted to lead Kifah to the stables to be boarded. She may be spirited but she was a creature too and he sensed she was tired. He put a hand to rub her nose affectionately and trudged down towards the stables near the gates.

A cry caught his attention and he looked upward to see the falcon he had seen before. It was some magic or something that was at play. It was the same one flying overheard, circling as if looking for something before it flew into the city. His gaze lingered as the thought that it couldn’t be the same one crossed his mind since this one had the messenger carrier attached. Or perhaps he was mistaken?

_You shouldn’t be so quick to judge Altair. Sometimes there is more than what the eye can see. See?_

Altair blinked as he handed over coin for Kifah’s care and gave her a rub when she nickered for him not to leave. He actually made it into Acre without any trouble and took to the rooftops to make for the Bureau. His expression was firm but he was aware of everything nearby; he looked out for any signs of guards that would take a shot at him.

_Sometimes what someone shows on the outside isn’t what they truly are._

Altair leapt over the street to the rooftop across. He had been told that he had been arrogant and cold. He only did what he thought was his by right. He was better than his peers. But what was the cost of that? He would forever ask himself that and he could see how lonely his life had been and it was caused by his own doing.

He was an Assassin. They had a duty to a higher expectation. The simple wants and desires had no place since they clouded judgment. Emotional attachments caused this and in the end what benefit were they? Extracting revenge on Adha’s death brought no satisfaction to him. All it did was maybe rid the world of men better dead than alive but it hadn’t brought him what he thought it would. He really should stop thinking about _her_. His friend.

He called her Little Falcon on the first day that they met. He didn’t know why at the time but when he saw her… he knew. He vaguely remembered the reverence his father gave her, which was unusual since she was a girl, when he introduced them. Later he figured it was just respect for her father since he was an honored guest of Al Mualim.

His name for her was justified when she boldly asked him if he liked to ride horses. Again it wasn’t the thing a woman or a girl for that matter did. His response made her smile and it got bigger when he showed her the one that was his at the time. When she rode the beast it looked like she was flying even though she was small. That was when he first called her Little Falcon and the name stuck and she was pleased with it.

Altair made a sharp turn to avoid an archer’s sight and continued towards the Bureau. She was the only one who said that there was more to him than the arrogance and coldness he displayed. What did she see that others couldn’t? He was what he was. There was no changing that. Besides it was something sentimental that women would say. His frustration began to arise the moment he saw the entrance.

Quietly he lowered himself into the Bureau to pay a visit to the rafiq. One look told him that the rafiq knew of his plight and it appeared he was going to have to suffer through it like he did at Damas. It seemed that Al Mualim saw fit to make sure everyone knew of his humiliation and shame. He stifled anything that would resemble resentment or anything related to it and walked in.

Jabal, the rafiq of Acre looked up from where he was petting a bird and said, “Ah Altair. A little bird told me you would be paying me a visit. A little falcon in fact.”

Altair turned his head sharply but tempered the action to make it look like he was being his arrogant self. Just the mentioning of her name that he gave her… His eyes lighted on the bird that Jabal had been petting and recognized it as the one that had stared at him for a time. It may have been a joke to the rafiq but Altair didn’t see it like that. He said nothing though since he knew that the Brotherhood didn’t use birds of prey as messengers. He ventured, “Was it a message sent by anyone other than Al Mualim?”

“Hardly of any importance to you,” Jabal replied in an abrupt manner much to the annoyance of the younger man. “Should longtime friends of the Brotherhood wish to send a message that is their affair… not yours.”

The rebuke was evident in the tone of the rafiq. He wouldn’t have dared speak to a Master Assassin like that. As it were though, Altair was but a novice and hence… It rankled and made the small accomplishment of a rank restored seem like nothing. He could feel the pleasure of the rafiq and he lowered his head.

Jabal, satisfied at the rebuke issued, continued, “And who is the poor unfortunate the Al Mualim has chosen to taste your blade Altair?”

Altair replied firmly, wishing to get this over with, “Al Mualim has ordered the execution of Garnier de Naplouse.” He glanced over at the falcon who was looking at him boldly and he felt compelled to return the gaze.

Jabal watched the Assassin as he stared at the falcon who was staring back. His expression was thoughtful as he mused through his observations while clarifying, “The Grand Master of the Knights Hospitalier?”

“Yes.”

“Have you learned anything?”

It was already dark as night took over and Altair had arrived when it started to fall. The people that would have been the most help were already long gone and in their beds. Part of that delay was that he thought he was being followed again and made a side trip to try and discover who it was. He replied, feeling like a child that had gotten caught doing something and he hated the feeling, “There was nothing that was worth anything in terms of the best time and place to strike.”

It was hardly impressive to Jabal but he could concede to the lateness of the day. Still the novice had to learn and he replied, “Perhaps some information could be gained when others are asleep. Who is to say that it only comes from day?”

Feeling rebuked again and disliking it heartily, Altair turned to leave. He paused when the falcon on the counter suddenly darted his head forward and nipped what was left of his missing ring finger, drawing blood. He looked at the creature with a narrowed look and it returned it with a challenge in its eye, as if daring him to strike at it. It then took off, spreading its great wings and headed out of the Bureau, ignoring the pigeons and making the rafiq laugh.

Altair said nothing but took off after the bird. His keen vision caught sight of the creature. It challenged him by drawing first blood. _Alright flying brother. Lead me to your master._

An Arbiter was here in Acre; that much was certain. They used the birds of prey more readily than pigeons or couriers to send their messages. If one was here in Acre, they might have information about his target. They were seekers of knowledge; they decided fate and the Brotherhood executed it. It was overly simple but many a time the Arbiters brought attention to those that deserved death to the Brotherhood or they had information that might help. This one may merely be passing through but still the information was there and more likely he was going to have to work for it. It was a price to pay when seeking an Arbiter’s help.

_What is knowledge worth if it isn’t earned?_

Sighing Altair continued tracking the falcon as it flew above the streets. He barely managed to avoid a couple of archers that dotted the rooftops in his pursuit. He followed the creature to a high tower that looked like it would have a view of the city. He watched as it flew into one of the many entrances but it didn’t come out. “So you roost here,” he murmured to himself as he began to climb.

The climb was hardly a challenge and he was where the falcon had flown into and looking around quietly for any sign of the Arbiter. He could have demanded that they reveal themselves but that was a foolish move. The idea that it was a trap crossed his mind but that was also foolish and he dismissed it as such. The Arbiters wouldn’t do such a thing unless it was a means to teach a lesson or someone was impersonating them and Altair doubted that it was either.

Finding nothing, Altair growled softly in frustration. He prepared to leave and find a means of obtaining some information when something caught his eye. It was near the docks and looked suspicious to him. It warranted a closer look and he climbed down from the tower to get closer. When he found a good vantage point he could make out cargo wagons with the emblem of the Hospitaliers on the sides. People were inside and crying to be let out. This had him curious as he leaned over to see two members of that order conversing and decided to listen.

“Here is another from Jerusalem.”

“What is Garnier doing with this riffraff? He turns away ordinary citizens for this. The people are close to violence over this.” The guard sighed and added, “This is close to the scandal at Tyre.”

“What scandal?”

Even though the noise of the cargo was enough to drown out voices, the man leaned forward to whisper, forcing Altair to listen in closer, long and hard. “Garnier once called that city home but there was some sort of scandal and he was exiled. It’s said he was experimenting on citizens.”

The other looked a little sick, “What sort of experiments?”

“I don’t know the details but it worries me. Has it begun again? Is it why he locks himself away in the fortress?”

“I don’t know but I do know that we should get this lot to the hospital. Garnier says they are in need of healing.” The guard shrugged his shoulders. He wasn’t supposed to be asking questions… just follow orders.

“How does he know?”

Altair didn’t listen anymore and watched as the guards moved on. He looked at the wagon full of people that were moaning and begging to be set free. He was sorely tempted to do something to free them. Unfortunately that would expose himself unnecessarily and that would lead to compromising the Brotherhood. He had done that once and it cost him… and others.

He turned to leave when the sight of flapping robes caught his eye. He didn’t have to stay but he was curious and decided to watch. It was no Assassin; that much was clear. The robes were mot white but darker. The exact shade he couldn’t tell but he could admit he was impressed by the skill of the stranger. They moved like a brother. His admiration rose a little more when he realized he had lost sight of the stranger and frowned trying to find them using his eagle vision.

A falcon cry sounded and his attention was drawn to the source. His amber orbs focused on the flying brother that had nipped his finger circling above. The cry had startled the Hospitalier guards since they were not used to seeing such a creature. It was amusing that they were frightened by nonsense but it served a purpose as Altair saw. The people in the wagon were escaping out the back and running into the city but there was no sign of who did the deed.

 _Impossible without a key_ , Altair mused as he shifted his position to hide in the shadows lest he be found and accused of the deed just done. He made his way back to the tower he had followed the falcon to and barely managed to hide in its shadows just as the guards began to shout about their missing cargo. He watched as the confusion developed and the prisoners were long gone.

“It is sickening,” a low voice came from behind.

Altair gave an abrupt turn to see the stranger he had seen below standing behind him. He had his hand on a throwing knife and was prepared to throw it until the moonlight and his well-honed vision allowed him to recognize the robe. He lowered the knife and sheathed it saying, “It is since they are to be used in experiments. Safety and peace Arbiter.”

“Safety and peace, Assassin.”

Altair looked at the Arbiter and thought of what to say. What he had seen was most unusual for them. He ventured, “What is your business in Acre?”

“An answer to a puzzling question.”

Altair felt his impatience return. He was never one for the riddles the Arbiters spoke but he respected them. He had learned that sooner or later the questions he asked would be answered. It was a matter of getting to that point. “A question?”

“Of the shadows that surround death and those who may be one of many.”

Altair narrowed his eyes at that. Was it this Arbiter that caused his unease? Was he being followed by the Arbiters? If so, for what purpose? “Strange you say such a thing. They were words of a dying man,” he replied, decided to test his theory.

“But words that have been spoken by thoughts.”

“Do you always speak as such?”

“Do you always ask questions to which you know the answer?”

There was silence for the moment as Altair felt slightly rebuked by response but his impatience outweighed it a little. It was tempered more when the Arbiter relented, “This is but a small piece of the troubles of Acre and they are many.”

Altair could have gloated; he would have a few years ago, but he knew that it was a small victory. The Arbiter’s comment was like a gentle appeasement but still had the hints of rebuke. It was a reminder that he had to work for what he needed. He asked, “Could you point me where to find more on Garnier de Naplouse?”

The Arbiter paused a moment and looked at him. It was a common thing they did and Altair had been subjected to it times before. It felt like they were deciding whether or not to share what they knew or they were thinking of a task that would allow him to earn what he was asking for. Each one was different but they all had that same feeling. It was different from the rafiqs’s scrutiny.

The Arbiter looked at Altair and finally said, “Often to know a man is to know his work.” The Arbiter started petting something in the dark.

It took a moment for Altair to realize that the Arbiter was petting the falcon that he had seen previously. So he had been right in his suppositions. He heard the Arbiter’s response and gave a nod. It was as good an answer as he was going to get in terms of receiving help. He replied, “Thank you for your help.”

“It is but a small piece. To get a larger one, one must build upon it.”

“As is the purpose of the Arbiters.” Altair knew he should leave soon. Yet he was curious and asked, “Is that what you seek?”

The Arbiter didn’t respond to that. Rather the falcon gave a chirp and Altair observed as the Arbiter seemed to listen to the chirping. Finally the Arbiter said, “It is a puzzle and one must collect all the pieces.”

That was as good as an answer Altair was going to get from the Arbiter. He nodded, “Then I should leave you to your business. Thank you, friend.”

“Safety and peace… Altair.”

Altair had started to leave when the Arbiter addressed him. Upon hearing his name, he abruptly turned only to find that they were gone. He narrowed his eyes as he looked around. It was obvious that this Arbiter knew him. Which one was the question and he had met a few. Most kept their hoods down preferring to see who they were talking to; something about being able to see the difference between those that seek knowledge and those that want to use it for own means or something like that. They were scholars.

This one though preferred to be hooded. Altair couldn’t recall meeting one that was like this. Perhaps it had something to do with the incident that just occurred. It was an oddity since Arbiters were mediators in most respects. They recorded and observed but never really interfered. Had the Crusades changed their view of that? It was one of many questions he had but he knew the chances of meeting an Arbiter again was slim unless he sought them out and that meant a ride to Al-Nasrah.

He had been to the citadel of Al-Nasrah once and that was with Abbas and a couple other novices. They were there to see the Arbiters at their work and to understand how they fit into the roles they assumed. There was one Arbiter who was actually a Master Librarian as his title was referred to. He was elderly like a couple of the Master Assassins he knew but he gave the impression that he was a crazy old man.

The more he thought about it, Altair realized that perhaps this was a reflection of the lessons he learned about there being more to an appearance. Perhaps things were changing for the Arbiters. It was a lingering thought to possibly stop at the citadel on his return to Masyaf. The master of that order would see him and it wasn’t arrogance speaking to that. It was more that the master knew him and would drop what he was doing to inquire. Of course time did change things.

Sighing with slight frustration, Altair gave up looking for the Arbiter. He would have time to ponder over it when he was finished with his task here in Acre. There was nothing more to investigate here and he had a direction of where to go. He would continue in the morning. He returned to the Bureau to sleep and ended up dreaming of the falcon and he was chasing it.


	6. Chapter 6

Selma was disgusted by Garnier and his actions. The things she had heard and seeing the people enraged at his actions of turning them away… It was despicable. Healers were to help those in need. Still the Arbiter in her told her to reserve judgment but it was the Assassin in her that was angry and demanded retribution. It was tempting to laugh at a joke that had been saddled upon her by the Assassins and would often tease her with it when she took issue with something such as the way training was done.

_Is that the Arbiter or Assassin talking little Al-Fakhir?_

_I think it is both and that’s what scares me._

Selma felt her lip twitch as she thought about that memory and reflected over her meeting Altair the previous night. It was the first time she had seen him face to face since they parted ways. It was almost painful since she had not revealed herself and it was clear he didn’t recognize her… but that was her doing. Still it was… pleasant to see him again. Her feelings hadn’t changed and she couldn’t resist playing with him once she spotted him in Damas and then later trailing him to Masyaf. It made her want to laugh that he didn’t even see her amongst the villagers of Masyaf.

She followed him to Acre and it was much like how it was when they were children. He would go and she would follow like a little shadow. She was also curious about his mission and the whispers of Templars amongst the villagers piqued her interest. Again she couldn’t resist playing with him and chuckled when he took the roundabout way of getting to Acre on his last day of his journey. Then her imp of a beloved friend decided to play with him.

Ibn led Altair to her and she suspected that he had done more than just pique her soaring eagle’s interest and love of the birds of prey. Her beloved friend was playful in his nature but her defender and friend. The imp led Altair to where she had gathered information at the state of affairs of Acre. She had noticed the atmosphere the moment she arrived and discovered Garnier de Naplouse and the dissention he was causing. She found out about a shipment and decided to stage some interference with a little help from Azize.

The little band of thieves decided to follow through on her suggestion and Azize had left when she did to start an Acre outpost of the thieves’ guild. He knew some people there already and started on the rudimentary parts of it. He actually found her when she arrived and introduced her to the band and offered to give some help. She didn’t want to exploit it but he was insistent and those that he knew heard about the Arbiters. So they provided their help in freeing and hiding the prisoners. They were also running around and gathering information about what was going on.

Selma knew that she couldn’t fix their problems but she could give them the means to fix it or point them in the right direction. People were only as strong as what they could do for themselves. She couldn’t resist mothering the younger ones and they clung to her like barnacles on the ships that docked in the port. It was a good feeling since she was often alone with the exception of Ibn and to have unconditional affection from someone… it was lifting. They didn’t care that she was a woman and educated and she was happy.

“The first scouts are back,”Azize said as he joined her on the rooftop of the thieves’ guild base.

Selma looked at the boy and was aware that he couldn’t see anything but the lower half of her face. When she was on a mission, she preferred to have her hood up. It allowed her to blend into the crowds. She replied, “Anything more on Garnier?”

“There are the rumors of people becoming restless,” Azize replied as he continued to look in the direction that he was facing. “They say that he turns them away from the hospital. Kamilah picked up on rumors that he experiments on the patients but it conflicts with the reports that he heals them. What kind of man does this?”

“One who knows how to manipulate a situation to his advantage,” Selma replied as she crossed her arms over her chest.  “He just uses… cruel methods.”

“Most people don’t know what to believe,” Azize countered as he glanced at her as he crossed his own arms over his chest.

“What do you believe, Azize?”

Azize thought about the question for a moment. He then replied, “Each person reaps what they sow. You help someone in need and it is returned to you. Perhaps that is what the people see when Garnier cures people. They overlook the atrocities to see the miracle.”

Selma gave a hum of approval and replied, “An astute observation Azize. Do you see as such when I accept your aid?” She turned to give him a good look and caught his eye when he turned to look at her.

“No,” Azize answered automatically and firmly. It was probably odd to hear since he was a thief but it was true. He then took the moment to add, “My father once said before he died that a true man is defined by the actions he does for others and does his work without expectation of praise. To expect such is prideful and arrogance.” He cleared his throat since his next words could sound very forward. He said, “You are not a man but you do what a man should do and I see that my father was also talking about how a woman is too.”

Selma thought on that and offered, “Your father sounds wise.”

“He told me that I had to look out for myself but if I had someone under my care, I was to look after them; to care for those that are forgotten.” Azize paused and considered his next words and finally blurting, “He would have liked you.”

“And I would have enjoyed meeting him,” Selma replied with a smile. She looked at the distance and could see the overlay of the port city. She sighed, “I must be going then.”

“Go to the hospital. They say that when he starts examining the patients, he is ignorant to things around him.”

“Shukaran,” Selma replied with a smile to sincere her thanks. She held out her forearm and waited while Ibn landed on her forearm for his treat of dried meat. She stroked his feathers for a moment before sending him on his way.

Perhaps it had been wrong with what she had been doing and what she had in mind but she truly didn’t know how her old childhood friend would take to her being there. He had been respectful last night but he had seen nothing but an Arbiter. His respected was something to be respected and vice versa. The truth was, she was nervous about revealing herself. Time was said to change people and she was afraid that it changed him.

Looking over the edge she glanced back at Azize and said, “Safety and peace.”

“Be careful.”

Selma took the warning to heart as she made her way towards the hospital in the fortress of that knightly order charged with caring for the sick and destitute. She used the rooftops to speed along and get there faster until she jumped down to make her way through the streets. Occasionally she paused to listen in on conversations and they verified what she had heard. The people were angry at what was going on. People were being turned away instead of being treated and the rumors on experiments on patients were more than hushed whispers. It cemented her belief that Garnier was a man that seemed to have lost sight of what his purpose or calling was.

She approached the hospital only to find out that only the monks were allowed to enter. That was going to be a problem since she was in grey robes. She may be a scholar but it was clear that she was an Arbiter and that could alter what she should be seeing. She had to find another way in and she spotted it by looking up to spy where the archers were. She had to scale the wall but she could get in and tail Garnier and pronounce judgment. As she moved into position, she caught sight of white that could have been mistaken for a monk but a closer look revealed that it was an Assassin and not any Assassin but Altair himself.

“Help me! Help me!”

Selma turned to see a man running through the courtyard. A guard was chasing him and caught him along with another. She noticed that no one was interfering. It had her open her eyes to how things were run in this part of the city. The man was kicking and screaming to be let go. She spotted Altair’s form as he stiffened slightly; he was not pleased by this either.

She had heard things from the rafiq of Damas. She heard even more from the one here in Acre. Yet she knew what lay beneath their words. She saw the boy she knew that was now a man and had what she could always see. He wanted to help but he couldn’t risk exposing himself unnecessarily. If anything she was familiar with the tenants of the brotherhood.

“I asked you to retrieve the patient, not kill him,” Garnier said as he came out, drawing both Selma and Altair’s attention. “There, there. Everything will be all right. Give me your hand.”

The patient refused to, screaming that Garnier not touch him. He sounded hysterical as he demanded not to be put through again what he had gone through. He looked like a crazy man.

“Cast out this fear. Else I cannot help you,” Garnier countered looking hurt at the accusations implied.

“Help me? Like you helped the others?” The patient had a crazed look about him. He hadn’t tried to escape but took the opportunity to make his point known. “You took their souls! I saw. I saw! But not mine. No. You’ll not have mine. Never, never, never… not mine…”

The slap was loud in the silence of the crowd. Then Garnier spoke, “Take hold of yourself. Do you think this gives me pleasure? So you think I want to hurt you? But you leave me no choice…”

Selma watched Altair stiffen slightly as Garnier passed near the scholars where Altair was standing. She thought silently, _Bite it back my friend. Bite it back._

“Every kind word matched by the back of his hand,” the crazed man retorted.  “All lies and deception. He won’t be content until all bow down before him.”

It was an odd accusation and while it wasn’t a good idea to listen to the words of a crazy man, Selma marked his words. She watched as he tried to escape but was grabbed and manhandled by the guards. They brought the struggling man to Garnier who regarded the patient coldly, “You should not have done that.” Looking at the guards, Garnier ordered, “Return him to his quarters. I’ll be along once I’ve tended the others.”

“You can’t keep me here. I’ll escape again.”

“No you won’t. Break his legs,” Garnier said with no hint of pity or mercy. “Both of them.”

The crunch of bones and screams of pain caused Selma’s lips to twitch in a grimace. She found herself remembering the day she had witnessed death and while hardly a comparison to what she was seeing now… she couldn’t help but note the cruelties of man. Like she could see from Altair, she was filled with the desire to rush in and do something and namely to kill the man. From her experience, healers were to heal but this… this was wanton cruelty. The man was worse than the one assigned to be in charge of prisoners. What has war done to people?

Movement from Altair told Selma that he was on the move and that was her signal to find her own way into the place. He was using the monks to gain entrance so that way was barred to her. She had contemplated going up and going in as an Arbiter in pursuit of knowledge but that would make her an obvious suspect when the deed was done.

_You startled me Little Falcon. I would hate to see what would happen if it was a target you were after._

Her decision made, Selma touched her back to make sure her bow and quiver were secure as she walked to the nearest wall. She checked to make sure no one noticed as she began to scale the wall. There was always more than one way to get into a place.

****

Altair was disgusted with what was going on in the hospital. If the scene in the courtyard was a disturbance, this was obscene. He may have had some doubts from a couple of the patients who professed their thanks to de Napolouse for his healing them but the pledge of loyalty sickened them. _To inspire such loyalty would mean providing salvation for illness probably brought on by Garnier de Napolouse himself._

The other patients helped to deter his doubts. They cowered in fear and screamed at de Napolouse for him to leave them alone. It was a look of torture he saw. Some he saw were mindlessly wandering around. They only became agitated if someone came too close. But their faces were blank with no signs of intelligence or life. He had to put an end to this and looked around the fortress. It was no hospital; he did not get the sense of healing that came with such a place. It was like a prison.

One of the prisoners became agitated and struck one of the monks. It was enough to distract the guards allowing Altair to slip away and track de Napolosue. He needed to get close but not too close since he needed his target to be distracted enough not to fight back when he killed him. That would also bring the guards and that was something that he wanted to avoid if not entirely.

He followed the man, avoiding getting too close to the patients lest they alert de Napolouse. His time was running short when the target was nearing the end of the ward. He had to make his move before he lost the man. He was confident that he would get him though. He was a Master Assassin after all. He pushed forward but one patient took offense at him and struck him in the shoulder and hard. He ignored it though and pushed forward, his target in sight.

Altair came up behind de Napolouse and triggered his hidden blade in a smooth motion. With a quick motion he drove it into the man’s back in the kill spot and muffled the cry of the now dying man. Lowering him to the floor he spoke softly, “Let go your burden.”

De Napolouse looked up at his killer as if he were an oddity but with no fear that his end was near. “Ah I rest now, yes?” He looked upwards at the ceiling and coincidentally at the chandelier that was providing light. “The endless dream calls to me. But before I close my eyes I must know… What will become of my children?”

Altair looked down at the dying man, a bit perturbed at the response. He couldn’t keep the distaste out of his, “You mean the people made to suffer your cruel experiments? They’ll be free now to return to their homes.” He made the last part sound like a firm declaration and it was considering what he had seen.

De Napolouse laughed but weakly, “Homes? What homes? The sewers? The brothels? The prisons that we dragged them from?”

“You took these people against their will,” Altair retorted, remembering the cargo that had been liberated the night before.

“Yes. What little will there was for them to have.” De Napolouse peered at Altair and asked, “Are you really so naïve? Do you appease a crying child simply because he wails? You would have to answer for the consequences.”

“These are not children. But full grown men and women.”

“In body perhaps. But not in mind. The very damage I sought to repair but without the artifact you stole from us… my progress has been slowed.” He paused and then added to Altair’s confusion, “There are herbs… mixtures and extracts. My guards are proof of this. They were madmen before I found them and freed them from the prisons of their minds and with my death… madmen they will become again…”

“And you truly believe you were helping them?”

“It’s not what I believe… It’s what I know.”

Altair mulled over it as he muttered, “Death be not unkind.” He didn’t have much time since he heard a low moan. Looking up, he caught a fist in his face from a patient bemoaning the death of de Napolouse. It left him stunned but it was enough to call the attention of the monks who began shouting and that brought the guards.

Springing to his feet, Altair charged towards a door that he hoped would lead out to the courtyard. His way ended up being barred by guards coming at him with their swords drawn. Altair countered by dodging the charge and watched as they collided with the patients that were behind him. He smirked as he watched the patients start to beat on the guards but it didn’t help him since something hard and heavy hit him across the back of his shoulders and brought him to his knees. It was about as humiliating as when Robert de Sable managed to catch him in the temple.

It was a wicked sounding chuckle pulled Altair’s attention as his arms were pulled into a restraining form by two more guards. A sword was pointed at his throat and he could see that the patients had been shuffled aside so there was no interference. He struggled but got a gauntleted fist to the stomach making him buckle and he felt the cold tip of the sword on his throat. He looked up to see the guard smirking at him and saying, “You will pay with your life assass…”

The last word never came out. Altair blinked at the jerking motion the guard made. The body dropped to the ground and fell forward to reveal the shaft of an arrow protruding from the back. He blinked again and tried to struggle to get free but he was held fast while orders were being given and the others were looking around for the direction the arrow came. He almost didn’t hear the whizz of two more arrows flying but he did feel the grip from the guards slacken and shook himself free.

More arrows rained down in quick succession almost insuring that he made it to the door to the courtyard. The guards that didn’t get hit were trying to find cover and calling for reinforcements and it allowed Altair to slip by. He did managed to steal a glimpse and saw a dark shape run across the rafters and thought he caught a glimpse of grey. _An Arbiter? Here?_

There was no time to dwell on that since whoever it was clearly bought him escape and Altair wasn’t going to waste it. More guards were coming with blades drawn as he barreled through and into the courtyard. He ended up coming face to face with the guard that broke the patient’s legs and was carrying a huge broadsword.

Altair drew his own sword and it looked like his was a tiny stick compared to the broadsword. Still he was prepared to defend himself and sprang away when the guard charged at him with a powerful swing of the broadsword. That kind of blade made for powerful swings but it left the defenses of the wielder significantly challenged. It was the kind of weakness that Altair was going to exploit as he dodged the blows. Speed was his ally in this case. He timed it to get his opening but suffered a clout across his ribs by a gauntlet fist in the process. In the end he managed to cut across the throat of the guard and the man was down for good.

Altair disappeared into the crowds before more showed up and only slowed when he judged he was a sufficient distance away to blend in. He was a nameless face in the crowd once again as he made his way to the Bureau to report that the deed was done. Only then did he allow his thoughts to wander and mull through what de Napolouse said and about what he had witnessed in the hospital fort. It was the latter that occupied his thoughts chiefly until he left Acre a day later.

Kifah was snorting at him again as he turned her head towards Masyaf. He assumed that it was because he was once again not letting her have her head. “Kifah,” he soothed, “It’s too hot for a run.”

That didn’t do much. Kifah stomped her feet impatiently in response and gave a slight buck. True she wanted to run but that was not what had her eager. She picked up something that was following them. She recognized the scent and wanted to go towards it. It had Altair frown at her behavior and had him glance around but he couldn’t pick up on anything unusual. Still it wouldn’t hurt to be alert. As an Assassin that was as natural as breathing. He still was concerned that Al Mualim sent someone to shadow him needlessly and the fact that he had yet to see them was worrisome and he nudged Kifah to move a little faster.

Nothing much happened the first night and he managed to avoid trouble. The morning thought brought him into contact with a caravan that was passing through on the way in the general direction of Masyaf. The leader though said that they were heading towards Al-Nasrah on their way to trade with the merchants of the citadel.

Altair took the information in quietly while his mannerisms seemed brusque. He was tempted to follow them and delay for just a moment in order to give in to the impulse of wanting to see his little falcon again. Seeing the Arbiter in Acre had him wanting to know if she was faring well and he would accept it if she was married though the idea of it sounded distasteful and produced a pang in his heart. The least he could do was make sure that if there was a husband he was worthy of her though there was little chance he was… whoever it was. So he stuck with the caravan but was not quite part of it and listened to the various conversations as he had learned to do as a novice.

Nightfall came and he was still with the caravan but not a part of it. His place to sleep was far enough away to be left alone but close enough to get information and it was a short distance to a more secluded watering hole. It was there that he was filling his canteen with his back to the cliff that bordered that side of the watering hole. As he was filling it he happened to glance in the pool and noticed a shadowy figure in the reflection indicating that he was being watched. He chose to not let on that he knew he was being watched and filled his remaining water bags and left with the goal of doubling back.

He found his little spy by the water’s edge looking around from the same vantage point that he thought he saw them at. He grinned thinking that this game was going to go his way and pounced. With the grace of his namesake, he flew forwards and landed on the back of the one that was following him with every intention on capturing, then interrogating and eventually or maybe killing whoever it was. If it was a fellow brother, he wouldn’t do it. He didn’t expect what happened when he pounced.

His target managed to counter by grabbing his arms when he got to a standing position. Altair yanked and ended up throwing his target across the desert sands watching as his opponent rolled to their feet to expect more while drawing their sword. Altair leapt at the chance and drew his own blade and sprung forward and for a moment the sounds of metal filled the night. The dance stirred up the dirt creating a cloud to add to the intensity of the battle.

Altair was determined to win this and fought hard with every trick he knew. The swings were calculated and he could tell that his opponent was a worthy opponent. This was definitely someone to bring back to Al Mualim and would restore what he lost. He focused as he realized he was being pushed back to the cliff and he was almost bent over backwards against a boulder. When his opponent charged, he raised his boot and planted a firm push more than kick to the chest but it was enough to give him the room he needed. His hood fell off in the process but he didn’t care; he wanted to win.

He managed to knock his opponent’s blade away having them at his mercy. His lip twitched in a smirk as he held his blade out to indicate his victory. He thrust forward expecting the dodge but not the grip to his wrist of his sword arm. Out came a knife and his other hand became occupied with holding it away from his body. It began a game of tug-o-war as they struggled to gain an edge and ended up falling to the ground with a dull thud.

The fall had Altair end up on top and he managed to push back the hand with the knife. He manipulated his fingers to apply pressure to the wrist. He shifted his body to prevent struggling. He almost had them and the knife dropped with a dull thud along with a grunt that had him blink in surprise. He adjusted his position to pull the hood off his opponent and got a look full on at a very familiar face and his grip loosened. It was a mistake.

The blow to his manhood was unexpected and Altair’s grip slackened as he doubled over allowing his opponent to wriggle out from underneath and get to their feet to run. There was no way that he was going to let them go and managed to get to his feet and give chase. He managed to catch up despite the pain and lunged forward, tackling them and pinning their arms to their body, landing in the sand with a thud. He flipped the body over while they struggled and demanded, “Stop, little falcon.”

The struggling stopped and they stared at each other.


	7. Chapter 7

Selma looked up into the golden orbs of Altair and noted the unruly crop that was his hair. His expression though was one of shock, like he couldn’t believe he just demanded something of her. She was in shock herself but mostly frustrated that her ‘game’ backfired on her and he got the jump on her at the watering hole… not that it was disappointing. What shocked her the most was that she had literally stuck it to her flying eagle by kicking him in that sensitive region.

It was a reflex reaction. He was on top of her and she reacted even though she saw his face. The training she had endured to defend herself from situations like that kicked in. The flight was partially from embarrassment and partially as part of the second nature of her training. That is until he caught her again and she was once again in that position she was in previously. Her body became aware of his and the fact that he had her wrists pinned firmly with his hands to prevent her from delivering more damage. Her breathing was heavy as she caught her breath and her eyes narrowed slightly.

Altair merely stared down at the glare that was staring up at him. His eyes betrayed his surprise at the face he knew so well and had committed to memory. The most striking were her eyes; the same lively flickering that had him fascinated as a youth. She looked the same and without thinking he leaned closer to peer closer his hands still closed on her wrists and his body positioned to keep her pinned.

He could smell the faint scent of jasmine blended in with the air from the sky, as silly as it sounded. He never could describe it except for the scent of jasmine, and he never really cared for the scent in the first place. But on her though it was different; it was pleasant. He leaned in closer and took in every detail he could.

Selma felt her eyes widen slightly when he swooped down and leaned in close. She was well aware of the position she was in and had it been anyone else, it would have been stifling and aroused her defenses. With Altair, it was comfortable even though what he was doing had her wondering if she had given him a harder hit to his manhood than she thought. She watched his movements and… was he sniffing her?

As he leaned in closer, Selma could pick up the smells of sweat and sandalwood and a little bit of… well she wasn’t sure what. She could say it was the sky or something but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It was pleasant to her nose but it was a little unsettling that he was that close again so soon. She could have struggled and probably throw him off but she had no desire to give the wrong impression but she was at a loss of how to make it known that he was sort of stepping on personal boundaries at the moment even though she liked it. Instead she merely stared back after relaxing the glare that popped up because she had gotten pinned. She looked up at the golden orbs as they stared at her.

Altair continued to stare until he realized how close he was to her. The last time he had gotten that close was when he said good bye to her. He also became aware of their position and noted how she just laid there staring at him, not moving. He was quick to jump off of her and actually scooted away, not bothering to stand but sat on the sand. Did she think…?

Selma blinked when he moved away so quickly. She sat up to face him and looked at him and took in the expression. Finally she said, “That wasn’t the welcome I was expecting.”

Altair, responded, a little annoyed, “It’s what you get for spying on me.”

“That which you are guilty of yourself many times over,” she replied with a raised brow. “I seem to remember one time at the river…”

Altair growled at that, “That lecher Abbas was the one spying on you.”

Selma sat up a straighter looking very proper even though she was sitting on the sand. She knew that. She merely wanted to tease Altair. “But you were the one that was in view. You deserved it since you did look.”

Altair growled and got to his feet. “I have no time for this.” He turned and started walking back to his camp when he realized that someone was walking with him. He took a swing and it was aptly blocked by Selma.

Selma wondered what was wrong with her old friend. He was stunned and now he seemed angry and upset. Naturally it spawned her desire to know what was wrong and try to fix it. So she followed him using a light run to catch up with his long strides. She blocked when he swung his arm out, a little put out that he did that but willing to be reasonable. “Have you forgotten?”

“Hard to forget,” Altair replied a little more roughly than he intended.

“Then you would remember that I apologized for it and Abbas was punished for what he did.”

“You still swung at me,” Altair countered well aware that it sounded like he was pouting like a child. He scowled and started to walk away.

“Altair.”

Altair paused and turned to look at Selma. Her voice always made him pause. Not even Adha could get him to pause like Selma did. He looked at his old friend staring at him with that gaze of hers. By Allah he had missed her but… He shouldn’t even be having this conversation. He said, “You should go. It was a good game we played.”

“I have no desire to leave. I followed because I wanted to see you.” Selma knew it was bold to speak like that to a man but she wanted no misunderstandings. “I’ve wanted to since I saw you in Damas.” She looked at Altair with a somber look.

Altair looked at her giving him that look he remembered well. It was the same one she gave when she deferred to him when they were children and she would ask something. It was also one that said she was serious about the conversation they would end up having. He blinked and realized that she said she saw him in Damascus. He narrowed his eyes slightly, “Damas?”

“I was there. I saw you.” Selma wasn’t sure if she should say more but decided to bite the bullet and continued, “At least there will be one less pestilence now that Tamir is gone.”

It dawned on Altair what she said and he put pieces together, “You were the one watching me in Damas. You were the one chasing me.”

“Yes. Just like we used to,” she replied in a low voice. She clasped her hands together as a silent means of contrition. She took a silent breath and said, “Five years is a long time but… memory is long.”

“Too long,” Altair replied as he took in her silent gesture of contrition. She was apologizing for giving him that anxiety of being chased. He found it uncomfortable and added sharply, “And if you wanted to see me, you could have come to Masyaf. You know you are welcome there.”

“I was not in the land for a couple of years,” she admitted. “You have your duty and I have mine.”

“That I have no doubt,” Altair replied crossing his arms over his chest. He hadn’t put his hood back up. Under normal circumstances he would, preferring that people not see his face. At the moment he was not concerned with anyone seeing his face. He peered at Selma before asking, “And has being back here dulled your usual sense of decorum?”

Selma moved her head slightly wondering what Altair meant and frowned ever so slightly. She replied, “What do you mean? In chasing you I was performing a task that was given to me and that was to cast judgment on Tamir.”

“Sounds more like what my brothers do and not the work of an Arbiter,” Altair countered with an edge in his tone. It was less harsh than what he had given to Malik back at Solomon’s Temple but still harsh.

“War does force one to look at things from a different perspective. We may be scholars but a blade can kill us just as easily.” Selma had crossed her arms over her chest as she stared up at Altair. She wasn’t sure where the terseness was coming from though she assumed that it was because five years was a long time. She raised her brow and added, “Though it should hardly matter to you since you and the brothers taught me.”

“It does if one expects you to be what you are.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

That was the question. What did Altair mean by that? He was certain that she had married and granted he never trusted anything Abbas, the dog, said… When he heard of the young man and his bride being intelligent… He couldn’t help but make the connection and yet his old friend wasn’t acting like a married woman. One thing he knew for certain was that Selma, while given more freedom than most other women, was very proper.

Once when she had arrived for her three months, Abbas ended up calling her a whore and it was because she disagreed on some trivial matter. She had been calm and logical in her disagreement and even when insulted she spoke calmly. Altair remembered she had the desire to hit Abbas but he took care of that later. Even though she was treated as somewhat an equal with the other brothers, she always acted like a proper woman.

Looking at her, Altair finally said, “It is nothing.” He turned to leave.

Selma knew something was behind that statement. She could press but at the moment even she knew that Altair’s stubborn tendencies would take over. Instead she followed and began walking slightly by his side and slightly behind him. She was rewarded by his exasperated, “What do you want, woman?”

“I came to see you… and make sure that you were all right. Metal gauntlets do leave a sting.”

Altair paused and abruptly turned to look at Selma. He noticed she had taken the position a woman did when walking with a man. But that didn’t have him pause. It was what she said. How would she know about that unless…? “What is the meaning of that?”

“As I said. Metal gauntlets leave a sting,” Selma replied softly, a complete contrast to the demanding tones of Altair. Her own didn’t convey weakness or meekness. She was proud and had been taught her worth was worth fighting for.

“Were you in Acre?”

“Yes.”

Altair took in the somber expression. Though it was a simple answer, by her expression, even though it was dark, he could tell that she was revealing much more. He wasn’t sure what to feel about that and replied with, “It is no concern of yours. All is well.”

“Then I suppose that you would be saying different if they did manage to behead you.”

Altair spun on his heel to face a pointed look that almost looked like she was scolding a child. Her arms were crossed over her chest and it made her look formidable even though she was shorter than he was. He narrowed his own eyes and retorted, “I didn’t need your help.”

“You never did,” she replied, “Because you were and still too proud to ask for it.”

“And do you think you know better?” Altair’s voice took a gruffer tone as a slight growl entered his throat. “You had everything.” He turned and walked away leaving her there. He didn’t care if she walked away.

Selma blinked. It was a fine time to be a woman with tears pricking. She had forgotten how infuriating Altair could be when he became arrogant and stubborn and not to mention saying things he didn’t mean but they still hurt all the same. She sensed that something happened recently since she had commented before on his arrogance and he never lashed out at her like that… at least none that she could think of. Then using their upbringing… it brought her temper to rise. She followed in a determined step and called back, “You must be desperate if you want to even get into that. I was there too. I saw everything.” She stopped when he had reached his camp and stayed away since she wasn’t invited. She was surprised when he stopped and she continued, “So don’t you dare.”

Altair stopped before entering his camp. That hadn’t been fair of him since she never hung _that_ over his head. He had stopped because he knew he should at least apologize for doing that but he also took her words that had been slung back at him. He heard her last words. He remembered that day. He should have done as he was told but he didn’t. He stood there with his back facing her, thinking.

Selma knew that he was in deep thought. She stayed where she was and was prepared to wait. If there was one thing she learned it was patience when it came to Altair. She sighed and lowered her head a bit. After a time when it seemed that he wasn’t going to turn around, she reached for her hood and turned to go. She would give him his space.

“Don’t go.”

Selma stopped and turned to see that Altair had turned to look at her. He had turned slightly to turn his head to look directly at her. She paused to gauge his demeanor and noted that while tense, he had relaxed. She slowly turned to directly face him and was met with that familiar twinkle he always got when he looked at her.

****

“Here.”

Altair looked at the apple that was being offered to him then up at Selma. She was lounging on the wall of what remained of a house. They had stopped to take a rest since the day was unusually hot and it was cruel to allow the horses to walk in that. They could make up for it traveling at night. They were lucky to find this particular oasis. There was water and shade and by keeping watch no one would bother them.

Looking at the apple, Altair recalled other times when they used to eat together as children. Some were with Malik. The thought of that sobered him and he looked down as he thought about his failure at the temple. After going back to Al Mualim he would have to go to Jerusalem. He didn’t think he could face him.

Selma noticed the change in Altair and peered at him. She couldn’t see his face since his hood was up this time. His posture though told her that he was thinking and with regret. She thought about what to say. It would have been easy to ask directly but she was unsure. She had only reunited with him and to ask confidences so soon… so she gently pressed, “Are you not hungry?”

Altair shifted to glance up at her where he was sitting against the wall. She was still holding it out to him. He was surprised that she wasn’t pressing him about his behavior or what he had been doing. She had always been a bold one. It was why he liked her and cherished her as a friend. She wasn’t afraid to say what she thought. This was a different side and it had him confused but he was also aware that he might be hurting her feelings and that made him feel worse.

Shifting, he managed to give a slight smile and reached for the apple. “Thank you, Little Falcon.”

Selma smiled as she adjusted her hood. It was a hot day and the shade was welcome. She leaned back to where she had taken refuge and pulled out a slice of bread. She didn’t mind sharing and once she entered Masyaf, she would be able to stock up. “You’re welcome Altair.”

Altair held the apple but continued to look up at her as she settle back where she decided to rest and eat. She had grown a little more. Not in height or anything like that. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it and assumed that perhaps married life changed her but her behavior, her seeking his company… It wasn’t something considered proper.

“Stalking me like a target?”

Altair cleared his throat and looked away. “If it were a game that I knew I was involved in.”

Selma chuckled at his posture. He only pouted in her presence. They had always been free with their thoughts and feelings growing up. Hence when he was miffed at being caught doing something he shouldn’t and was embarrassed by it, he pouted. “And will you play acting like a child?”

“I am not a child.”

“As you say old friend,” Selma countered with a slight smirk. She leaned against the wall and finished her slice of bread. She gave a slight chirp and held out her gauntleted hand. She smiled when Ibn landed on it and she began stroking the breast feathers gently. “At least I know Ibn is a child but a beloved friend.”

Altair made a slight noise as he took a defiant bite of the apple. “I thought I was that to you.”

Selma paused and looked down at Altair. He was sitting and chewing on his apple but he looked almost miserable. She raised her brow at that. Was Altair jealous? The idea seemed laughable, even to her. He was arrogant yes and boastful but jealous? “What do you mean?”

“Do you not remember? That day when you jumped in after what Abbas did?”

Selma blinked slowly and moved to set Ibn onto the wall next to her. She sat up slowly and gave a reassuring stroke to the bird’s breast. She did remember that day and what happened after that. She had been told to stay away from the dungeons but she defied Al Mualim’s order and came down. She brought little things of comfort but Altair said that her coming down was comfort but he had been fearful that she would get caught and punished. He had asked her why and she said… “I remember and you are still that. That has never changed.”

Altair heard her words. Was it true? She never lied to him in all the years he had known her. He was beginning to feel foolish and that he made a mistake in asking her to join him on his return to Masyaf. Her home was on the way and he intended it as an escort though she hardly needed it but now… he seemed to make a fool of himself.

“Can not a person have more than one beloved friend? Or have one that reminds her of the first?”

Altair looked up to see her looking down at him. Her expression held concern, hurt and… “I suppose. I thought you cast me aside.”

“Never, Altair,” Selma affirmed. “And it is not because of what happened to your father. It is not pity and you never had it from me.”

“As you are fond of reminding me in so many ways.” Altair lowered his gaze and sighed. The half-eaten apple was in his hand. He didn’t even feel hungry anymore. Perhaps Kifah would like it and it wouldn’t go to waste. “Perhaps… we should part ways again. I fear I have done nothing but hurt you.”

There was a dull thump of boots hitting the ground and the soft patter of steps. Altair heard her robes swish with the grace he had always seen her use. He was surprised when he felt her fingers on his chin and pushing gently so he would meet her gaze. He found that she had come to kneel in front of him and she had a serious expression on her face as she said, “The way things happened, they have brought hurt to us both but there is no changing it. It is expected that after all this time that we may not be on the same footing as before but know this: I always thought about you and wished that Allah would bid you well.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

“You forget that you can’t boss me like when we were children.”

Altair looked up into her reddish brown orbs with his golden ones. He noted her firm expression mingled with the playful smirk forming on her lips. He couldn’t help but smirk in response. “Perhaps a new lesson is in order?”

Selma turned her smirk into a full smile. She released Altair and sat back on her heels in her squat. “You know that I can’t resist learning something new. But I think that this is an old one and I would be bored.” She stood up and started to walk away.

Altair narrowed his eyes but not in malice. He held out his apple to Kifah and felt her lips wrap around his hand to grasp it. He silently got to his feet and snuck up and grabbed her from behind but only holding her upper arms. “I hardly think so, Little Falcon,” he whispered into her ear.

Selma felt his hands around her arms. She grinned as she lowered her head giving her hood a drooping look. She maneuvered her leg to wrap around his and pulled to throw him off balance. It gave her a chance to shove him and laughed as he landed hard on his rear on the sand. “Still the same moves, my flying eagle. As I said, I would be bored.”

“As you say,” Altair replied as he propped himself on his elbows and looked up at her.

Selma chuckled at him. “Are you finished with your dark thoughts, my beloved friend? Can we finish our meal like good friends?” She held out her hand to help him up.

Altair nodded. He felt a little better and he was encouraged to speak to her as they used to but he would be respectful. He couldn’t resist though as he took her hand and pulled her forward, causing her to fall. He caught her to keep her from hitting the ground. “My dark thoughts are gone. Let us finish.” He set her on her feet.

Everything was righted for the moment. They had exchanged their barbs with each other and had their ‘fight’. Selma nodded in acceptance of that. She teased, “Though that was your only apple. Your fault that you gave it to Kifah.” She turned and in a few quick steps, she was back onto her spot on the wall.

“Then permit me to share what I have,” Altair replied as he walked over to his pack. He dug into it and pulled out a slice of bread and an apple. He offered it to her. “As a friend should,” he added locking his gaze onto her.

Selma accepted the apple, her fingertips brushing his palm. She was aware of a warm feeling that passed the moment it occurred but unaware that Altair felt the same thing. She took it and put it in her lap. “Thank you, my flying eagle.”

“You are my friend, Little Falcon,” Altair replied softly and went to where he had been sitting and took a bit of the slice of bread.

They sat there in companionable silence. It allowed for some of the tension to be alleviated as they recalled memories. It permitted their continuing journey towards Masyaf where Al Mualim waited.


	8. Chapter 8

Masyaf was as she remembered it the moment she entered the village. Selma remembered back to the very first time that she had entered the village and saw the citadel that was the home of the Assassins. Her father had made the trip to Masyaf for years until that one year when she had turned ten. He had decided that she would meet the brother order that was often considered the weapon of the Arbiters.

_You are to accompany me my daughter. It is time that you meet those that seek knowledge and peace._

She recalled when she first saw the citadel and marveled that such people lived there. It was similar to the citadel at Al-Nasrah. But it had its own appeal and once she had been settled there, she discovered little by little the appeal of the citadel. And part of that was owed to the man beside her.

The village was below the fortress and was like the village at Al-Nasrah. People were going about their business with daily trade. Some were tending to a farm like existence with their herds. The people were friendly and were curious. She sensed awe emanating from them when her father led the way in on his horse. She had ridden with him and she felt small holding onto the back of his robes.

The road sloped upwards towards the fortress. In a way it was like being shown a path to an ultimate goal or something like that. It was hard to describe then and now she took it in with silent awe as the memories of countless times of training, games of chase and just being amongst the people were filtering her mind. She felt the need to comment, “Masyaf is still grand.”

“Not for me.”

Selma took in Altair’s quiet admission. Five years may not seem like a long time for some but here, it was. Something had happened to Altair and he was reluctant to say much. In fact once they left Al-Nasrah for a small respite, he became silent and only saying what was necessary. The closer they got to Masyaf it was like he dreaded it. Why would he not like his home?

Altair sensed that there was a question Selma wanted to ask and he was not ready to tell her. Her barb about his arrogance still stung because it was the truth and she was forever telling him that it would lead to sorrow and pain. He knew she loved Masyaf as much as she loved Al-Nasrah. Perhaps she deserved some of the truth. He uttered softly, “It was because you weren’t here.”

Selma paused while Altair continued to walk. When he sensed she wasn’t with him, he stopped and turned to look at her. His hood was up and no one could see his face but he was looking directly at her. Saying nothing she started walking again to close the distance. He started walking when she was close enough to keep up with the walk. It was a silent walk to the gate as they led their horses by the reins and it was only then that Altair’s demeanor changed.

“So you have returned, brother. Successful being the mentor’s lapdog, no?”

Selma recognized the grating voice on her ears and lifted her head slightly. Her own hood was up to hide her face from others. To the majority she was just another Arbiter. With her gear on, her feminine curves were hidden and she looked like a man. It was comforting since she had a profound dislike for the man guarding the gate.

“I do my duty, Abbas. Much more than I can say for you,” Altair replied, his tone taking a firm stance as he shifted his position to shield Selma. Even though she was wearing her hood, he was not going to let that rat taunt her. To outsiders his position was more along the lines of showing respect for the Arbiter accompanying him.

“So you say.” Abbas sneered at Altair and his gaze shifted to the Arbiter standing quietly. “It seems you need help if you’re traveling with an Arbiter.”

“The Arbiter wishes to speak to Al Mualim on another matter. You would do well to remember that they are welcome to come and go.” Altair tensed his muscles wishing very much for the conversation to end.

“Indeed but who’s to say that they are here for reasons beyond what they claim?”

“You know that is not what they stand for. We are done.” Altair pushed his way past not looking at Abbas but tense just in case. He couldn’t do anything about the fact that Selma was walking closest to the rat and to say anything would bring Abbas’ attention to her. He led the way like an escort would to the stables. Once they were a distance from the gate, he relaxed slightly.

“Some things haven’t changed,” Selma commented. She reached out and gently patted Altair’s bracer to indicate she was fine.

“No they haven’t, Little Falcon,” he murmured as he led Kifah to her stall. “Be cautious,” he counseled looking at her, “Abbas…”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Selma replied to seal the conversation. She nodded at the stable hand that came to attend to Qismat and Kifah. Stepping outside, she held up her wrist and Ibn came to rest on it. She put him on the stable wall and asked the boy to look after him as well. Upon agreement she followed Altair to enter the citadel.

The whispers were loud as they passed by the other Assassins. Some were working on their training and others were carrying out duties that related to the defense of the citadel and the general maintenance. The presence of an Arbiter always had one speculating but neither Altair nor Selma paid attention to it as they traveled the familiar path to the study of the mentor.

Selma nodded to indicate that she would wait and Altair gave a silent one in return. With a firm stride he walked towards Al Mualim and stood before him. “Garnier de Naplouse is dead.”

“Excellent,” Al Mualim nodded in firm approval. “We could not have hoped for a more agreeable outcome.”

“And yet…”

Al Mualim sensed there was something more to Altair’s mission. “What else?” He gestured for Altair to continue much like a father would do to encourage his child.

Altair knew that the last two missions involved strange things coming from the men he had killed. The latest one was a puzzle. “The doctor insisted that his work was noble.” He resisted the urge to snort since what he had seen was still fresh in his mind. “And looking back, those who were supposedly his captives, many of them seemed grateful to him. Not all but many and enough to make me wonder. How did he manage to turn enemy into friend?”

“Leaders will always find ways to make others obey them and that is what makes them leaders. When words fail, they turn to coin and when that fails, they resort to baser things: bribes, threats and other types of trickery.”

Altair thought about it and gave a nod. “What other forms of trickery?”

“There are plants, herbs from distant lands, which cause a man to take leave of his senses. So great are the pleasures they bring that men may even become enslaved by them.”

“You think that these men were drugged then? Poisoned?”

“Yes, if it is truly as you describe. Our enemies have accused me of the same. You have done well Altair. Another rank is restored as is another piece of your equipment.” Al Mualim gestured to the equipment on the desk. “Take it and complete your next task in Jerusalem.”

Altair picked up his equipment and stood there. “Master, there is one thing more.”

“Oh? And what else do you have to say?”

Altair gestured to where Selma was waiting. “We have a visitor from our friends in Al-Nasrah. I was approached in Acre and agreed to escort to Masyaf.”

  Al Mualim certainly didn’t expect an Arbiter to darken his door even though they had been welcome throughout the years. Few actually came to Masyaf but most interactions were in the cities where their work was done. Yet he was pleased all the same. He beckoned, “Come forth, child. What news of Al-Nasrah?”

Selma came forward when beckoned. She was not meant to overhear the conversation but it was more of what she had learned following Altair around. Still she had a piece of the puzzle as to Altair’s demeanor and she kept it to herself as she stepped forward and answered the old man’s question, “All is well. It is merely a visit to old friends.” She lifted her head so that Al Mualim would have a better look.

Al Mualim was surprised to see the daughter of his old friend once more. The last time he had seen her was five years ago. Since then all he had heard was from what his assassins brought in reports and from birds sent to Masyaf. “Then I welcome you once more to Masyaf, daughter of Al-Fakhir.” He took her hands in greeting.

“It pleases me to see you again Al Mualim. It has been a long time.”

“Indeed. I have heard much of your work and it has done much to reduce tensions in the Holy Land.”

“Not at all. It is but a small part.” Selma had lowered her head to a respectful level. “But our work is ever going. It is why I came from Acre to see you.”

It was an idea she had formed right then and there. It would be approved of by her father but it would take a respectful approach to Al Mualim. She remembered him as being kind but he was also set in his ways. There were also the rules of society and it demanded that she give respect to all men even if they were undeserving of it. She could only hope that the old man would be agreeable to it. She also hoped that it wouldn’t tarnish anything between her and Altair.

“Pray tell, child,” Al Mualim prompted.

“For centuries our two orders have always aided each other in maintaining the balance of this land. We have our roles defined as our creed asks of us. However, in this state of war, it seems to leave opportunity for the people to be taken advantage of. It is why the Arbiters have decided to track down and judge those that would do such a thing. I would like to ask if you would lend your best to aid us.”

Altair listened to Selma and marveled at her speech. He had forgotten that when she was trying to persuade someone how moving she could be. He always thought she had a silver tongue.

“Indeed. This war is troublesome and you are right child.” Al Mualim had begun to pace to muse over the proposal he had been given. “I do find it odd that the Arbiters are becoming more involved.”

“We are seekers of knowledge,” Selma nodded in agreement, “But we also dispense it to those that seek it. Our wisdom is sought by leaders.”

Al Mualim nodded at that. He did find it strange but perhaps there was merit to this. His assassins were good at seeking out information but the Arbiters were knowledgeable about many other things. “I see your point. And it is a good one.”

“I accept your wisdom.” It was a gamble with that statement and Selma was willing to take it.

“Very well. Altair, she is to accompany you on your mission.”

Altair would have protested but he bit it back. He didn’t want Selma to see him berated for disobedience. He also didn’t want her to see his disgrace. He didn’t care what the brothers thought about him but he did care what she thought and his path of redemption… it was not something he was proud of. He did nod respectfully and said, “As you wish, master.”

“It is as I wish. If you find what the Arbiter seeks you will do what is asked of you. Now you have your mission.”

Altair said nothing and turned to walk away. Selma barely had time to thank Al Mualim before turning swiftly to catch up with Altair. From his posture she could tell that he was not pleased at all with the situation. That meant it was going to be a fairly unpleasant journey towards wherever he was going. She tried to explain, “I apologize…”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Altair interrupted as he stalked the corridors. “You don’t need to get involved.”

“I am involved by order of my order.”

“Then do what they say.” Altair had stopped suddenly and whirled to look at her. “You should know better than to get involved with things that don’t concern you. It’s a lesson you never learned.”

“Altair…”

“I don’t need your help. Go home, Little Falcon.” Altair turned and walked away, leaving Selma standing there.

Selma watched Altair leave. She was right in that something happened and if she had to guess, the answer was in Jerusalem. Altair didn’t react until Al Mualim said that his next mission was in Jerusalem. Whatever happened there… he didn’t want her to find out. Normally she would be persistent but standing there… she felt lost. She hadn’t felt that way in a long time. Was she losing her beloved friend?

****

Nighttime was a perfect time to think about things. It allowed one to regroup their thoughts and mull over the day’s events. A person could look back at events past and just try to figure out what went wrong. Selma sat up on one of the leap of faith points and looked out over the landscape that was Masyaf and thought about what happened that day.

After Altair left her standing there in the main hall, she had gone to the gardens to visit the women there. Now that she was an adult she realized how risky it was for her to be doing that now that she understood why the gardens were there but the women there had always welcomed her. Now that she had thought about it, they were wary about how they acted around her and probably it was because they knew she was her father’s daughter. Still they never discouraged her from coming and they always seemed to be in a mood for gossip. Certainly the older ones who remembered her as a little girl were always in a mood. In fact they teased her about the eagle of Masyaf and that he had returned from Acre.

She had spent the rest of the day sitting with the women in the secluded area, telling stories of her travels. In a small way she felt sorry for them in that they remained here while she traveled. Looking at it more, they were lucky to have a home even if they were ostracized socially for doing what they were brought there for. She didn’t pity them and instead conversed with them, treating them like people and they taught her how to walk and talk like a lady should.

“Still strutting like a man. Such stubbornness,” the lady in charge clucked but she was smiling.

Selma felt her lip twitch as she remembered that exchange. That led to the younger ones tittering and laughing and asking who needs a man to protect them when they had the falcon of Al-Nasrah protecting them. It led to joking and she tried to dissuade them of the romantic image of herself but it was to little avail. So she told them about her adventures with Faisal and the girls enjoyed them. It passed the afternoon nicely even though she hadn’t really seen Altair at all.

She decided to leave him alone since she wasn’t even sure what it was that seemed to put a strain between them. It didn’t sit right with her that something was wrong and it bothered her that she may have caused something to ruin things between them. So she wandered the citadel alone but stuck to the shadows to avoid talking to the brothers. Some instances she couldn’t avoid and she mostly whispered in a raspy tone.

She did worry that Altair left for Jerusalem without her but she wouldn’t blame him if he did. While she was certain he wouldn’t disobey Al Mualim’s directive, she knew that he would stretch his limits if it was something that truly bothered him. She stopped by the stables and found that Kifah was still stabled and enjoying her rest so that was a slight relief but she wasn’t lifted in spirit. She petted Kifah and then Qismat since he was a jealous rogue that she loved before petting Ibn and leaving.

She found one of the leap of faith points and climbed up and stayed there the rest of the day, thinking and just looking at the view. Ibn joined her and kept her company from time to time as she stared out at the land before her. She stayed there long after the brothers went to eat and then go to sleep and no one seemed to bother her. If she heard someone coming, she would have left before they knew she was there.

_Altair, why are you against me going to Jerusalem?_

Selma sighed softly as she continued to stare. That was the one thought that kept circulating through her mind. It was all she could think about. Maybe she should return home and request another Arbiter go in her place. It was a painful thought since she wanted to be with her old friend, but if he didn’t want her to go…

A noise caught her attention and she glanced back. Someone was trying to climb up. Selma decided that she didn’t want to see anyone at the moment. She sent Ibn off before standing at the edge. It had been some time since the last jump she made but she was confident in her abilities. She leapt off and headed for the haystack below. The thrill of falling through the air had her smile as she silently landed in the haystack.

Rolling out, the loose bits of hay fell off and she pressed against the wall. Her robes were dark enough to blend in the shadows as long as she was quiet. She waited until she was certain no one would be looking and took off across the beams over the chasm. She remembered the layout and where Al Mualim would have had the defenses set up for an element of surprise and avoided them but instead headed towards a place she knew she would get some quiet and solitude.

_Where are we going, Altair?_

_You’ll see, Little Falcon._

Selma ran, her feet pattering on the ground. She had practiced hard running in the boots that men wore but these had been specially made for her feet. She was a fast runner barefoot but with her boots on she felt like she was flying. It certainly was helpful getting to where she wanted to go.

She found the place and surprised herself since she had only been there once. It was a shady glen that was protected by the shrubs and trees. A person could walk by and never notice it was there. It was also where she said good bye to Altair before leaving for home five years ago. As she stood there, she remembered that day again.

Perhaps it was right and she should return to Al-Nasrah. As much as she had wanted to see her old friend, perhaps now was not the time. There were things both obvious and not so obvious that required attention. The Crusades were a problem at the moment and… she knew that she had caused some sort of rift. Her presence would only make it worsen and she didn’t want that. In the morning she would see the old man and take her leave. What to say she would think about it.

Standing there, she heard a noise that had her tense up. Her hand went slowly to her belt and closed around the knife she kept there. The sound grew louder and was coming behind her. She had one chance and she had to be as accurate as possible. She vaguely recalled how Rauf taught her how to hold and throw and had her practice until it was second nature. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt and pulled it free while keeping her back turned. At the right moment, she spun on her heel and turned to throw the knife.

The dull thud told her that it hit a tree. What followed had her take a step back with wide eyes. She had expected someone like that rat Abbas but…

“I won’t ask what I’ve done to deserve that.”

Selma straightened up and for once glad her hood was up. She didn’t want to show her face now. “It should be obvious,” she replied tersely and turned her back on her visitor.

Altair stared, not sure if he should move or not. He glanced at where the knife was buried in the tree and that it was deep. Rauf had taught her well and it seemed that she had kept practicing. He looked back at her and noted her back was to him. He knew what it meant more or less and he was deserving of it. He offered, “Perhaps.”

Selma continued to stare in the direction she had faced. She wasn’t sure of what to say since there were plenty to say. As child it was easy to say what one felt since they weren’t completely obligated to obey the rules of society. As an adult, it was much harder since when one thought about it, it could sound much harsher than what was intended.

“I came to apologize,” Altair tried again.

“It is I who should apologize,” Selma replied softly. “I shouldn’t have imposed myself on whatever Al Mualim has for you to do. I have forgotten that such things are a proof of worth and should be earned fairly.”

Altair knew she was being polite for its sake alone. He had time to think as well about what he had said and done. The more he thought about it, the more he realized she was just manipulating things to spend time with him and allow them to get back on the friendly footing she had spoken of before. He was just upset that she would be going to Jerusalem, the very place that he would be reminded of his failure and… She had been right. Right now she was referring to what she had been told about the missions the brothers had been sent on and she was using it to put the blame on herself. “It is not that, Little Falcon.”

“Still, you are right.” Selma still didn’t look at Altair. Rather she crossed her arms over her chest and looked down. “I have no business meddling like I have. Perhaps I should return to Al-Nasrah. My original purpose was fulfilled. Good-night, Altair.” She started walking away.

Altair suppressed the sigh that threatened. She was going to take it and go and he didn’t want them to part on bad terms; he didn’t want her to leave at all. Risking a repeat of what happened by the watering hole, he grasped her arm to stop her from leaving. “I was wrong, Little Falcon. There are things that…”

Selma stopped the moment Altair grasped her arm. She could have retaliated and flung his arm aside and kept going. She didn’t though and stayed. “You aren’t wrong, Altair. I spoke without thinking…”

“Stop this, Little Falcon and let me speak,” Altair demanded. “If there is a fault you have it is assuming things others say are true.”

“I don’t assume. I consider it and most often they are right,” Selma retorted as she defiantly stared at Altair, her reddish brown eyes locking onto his amber ones. “If it is a fault then so be it. It is not like it is appreciated in any sense.” She tugged on her arm to get Altair to let it go but he held fast. “Let go.”

“No.”

“Let go.”

“I’m not letting you leave.” Altair stared at Selma hard.


	9. Chapter 9

Selma looked at Altair with a firm look after he declared that he wasn’t going to let her leave. She didn’t know what to think about that. First thoughts were to treat it like she was being made to do something and by someone she didn’t know. Unfortunately she did know this person and he was the last person to make her feel threatened. It vaguely occurred to her that Altair was trying to make up for his behavior earlier and she really hadn’t given him a chance. Yet that wasn’t on her mind when she narrowed her eyes and delivered a quick strike to his wrist to loosen his grip.

Once she was freed, she turned and started running back to the citadel the way she came. Her boots pattered on the ground in light quick steps as she sprinted towards the beams that crossed the chasms below. With a leap, she was on the beam and running across it. Most journeymen wouldn’t attempt what she was doing but she just needed distance.

It was like riding a horse as her memory of the layout of the citadel came back to her memory and it showed as she raced to one of the walls and started climbing. She could hear the pattering of feet and the grunts of her old friend as he tried to catch up to her. She had to lose him just only to gain some time to think.

She had been climbing without realizing that she had scaled the wall of the building that hid one of the citadel’s defenses. She realized it the moment she climbed over the wall and found herself inside where the release was. She looked around for a way out and found a small window to get out. It would lead to the roof but it was fine.

“Stop… please.”

Selma turned to see Altair pulling himself in. She took a step back and watched him walk in. “I don’t wish to speak.”

“Then listen. It is one of your better qualities.”

Selma looked at Altair. He had stopped approaching her and she stopped moving. She looked at him. “Is that all?”

“I wish to apologize.” Altair almost cringed at that. He was not accustomed to apologizing for much of anything. He may feel guilt for things he regretted but he was not one for apologies and it felt awkward. “I know you didn’t mean to cause things.”

“I interfered. Simple as that.” Selma turned and started to climb out the window.

“Little Falcon.”

Selma stopped and turned. She was already outside the window. The toes of her boots were perched on the ledge and her hands on the sill. It was enough to terrify one of the ladies from the Gardens since it looked like she was going to fall but she was sure of her footing. She looked at the eagle of Masyaf with a bland expression. “You don’t need to apologize, Altair. You were right in pointing out what I had long forgotten,” she offered softly. “And you were right. My business is concluded. I will leave.”

Altair would have liked to have stamped his foot in frustration but that would be childish on his end. Instead he let out, “I don’t want you to leave.”

“But it is obvious there is a reason you don’t want me to go to Jerusalem. It is contradictory.”

She had a point and Altair knew that. By revealing that, he knew that he would have to explain a few things. The truth was he didn’t want her to leave but he didn’t want her to know of his disgrace. He was setting himself up for a deeper hole, deeper than the one that he had nearly been buried alive when he was there the last time.

Selma studied Altair and noted his hesitation. “I will go but not before farewell. Good-night.” She turned to jump down.

“You were right my Little Falcon.”

Selma paused and turned to look over her shoulder. Her hands were the only thing keeping her from falling since she was leaning over and ready to leap. Normally she would have left but the manner in which Altair called her by his pet name for her had her stop. “What?”

Altair shuffled on his feet a little and took a tentative step forward. “You were right… about my arrogance.”

Selma didn’t say anything but held her posture. Perhaps she should turn around and give proper attention but in this manner, she could leave if and when she wanted. “Merely a statement that was heard before. You know that.”

“Not so.”

Selma turned around completely so her toes were on the ledge again. “Altair, it’s all right. It has been a long time and things have changed. Just let it lie. It was my mistake.”

“And I want to apologize because I don’t want you to leave. I am just ashamed and I don’t want you to know.”

Selma realized she was getting a huge admission from Altair. A slight feeling of hurt also crossed in that he wanted to keep something from her and it wasn’t like the surprises he used to spring on her when they were children. Steeling herself she replied in a matter of fact tone, “Then I will not accompany you.”

Altair was well aware that this could go on until they were both angry with each other. He disliked it immensely when she spoke the way she just did. It was like she was giving in. “Please… stay.”

“No.”

“Selma…”

“You made your point, Altair. I’m respecting that; something we always agreed to do and you accepted even though I’m a woman and by right you don’t.”

Altair would have said something but Selma was gone from the window. Growling in frustration, he continued to follow her. There were only so many places she would go and he knew all or most of them. He peered out the window to find her jumping from boulder to boulder towards one of the leap of faith towers. A nagging thought told him he should stop but he was also compelled by a fierce desire to make sure that there were no misunderstandings. Growling under his breath, he climbed through the window and continued to follow her.

When he was close enough, he managed to say, “I do respect you. It is why I tolerate this.”

“You tolerate me then?” Selma had stopped and was poised on a boulder. The boulder almost looked like a small mountain but she was perfectly balanced on the point. She had her brow raised in a challenging manner.

“I tolerate your behavior.”

“As much as I tolerate yours.” She turned and continued to ‘fly’. The balls of her feet tapped on the surfaces as she came around to the side of the citadel where the leap of faith tower was.

Altair continued the chase. “You always called me a child but this is just the same. Children would rather fly than stay and listen.”

“You say that I’m afraid.” Selma had landed on the ground near the wall. She was prepared to scale it but paused as she watched Altair.

Altair was too busy trying to keep up that he had forgotten a few of the ‘traps’ that were on that particular route. “You are not afraid of most things, Little Falcon,” he conceded. “What I mean…” He misplaced his landing and slipped off the boulder and collided with the ground.

Selma gasped slightly when she saw Altair fall. He had been concentrating on catching up to her he must have forgotten that there were a few places that could cause a fall. She was on the ground and sprinting towards where Altair had fallen, her boots making no more than a light patter. She found Altair rolling to gain his footing but it had been a hard fall. She crouched to look at him and caught his eye. “What you mean is that I am afraid to hear you out and you would be right,” she said as she reached out to wipe away some dirt.

“That is not what I meant,” Altair countered locking his gaze onto hers. Actually she was right in pointing out what he had been trying to say. He just didn’t want it called out like that.

“Yes it was.”

“No it wasn’t.” Altair got to his feet and dusted himself off. The fall wasn’t a long one but because he hadn’t expected it, it hurt more than it would have. Nothing was damaged except maybe his pride.

“You did mean it that way,” Selma countered as she stood up with him. She cast a quick eye over him to make sure he was fine. “And it is true in part but also I see your point. So enough.”

“No.”

“Altair, I’m leaving…”

“No.” Altair looked at Selma as he grasped her upper arm. Again it was setting himself up to getting another beating or another chase. “Little Falcon, I don’t want you to go. Please understand that.”

“But you don’t wish me to accompany you to Jerusalem. Seems contradictory to me,” she replied as she looked at him.

“Because it reminds me of how right you are,” Altair explained as he loosened his grip on her. “That and bad things happened then, Little Falcon… and I’m paying the price for it.” He looked at her as his hand subconsciously went to his side.

Selma understood then a little more. She had unknowingly interfered with a path of redemption for Altair. She knew that he was a proud man and it must have been a disgrace for him and then for her to insist that he might need help… The old man must have thought it would be a good opportunity to rub it in and she had encouraged it. Nodding, “Then I am sorry for making things worse for you. It will be best if I went home to Al-Nasrah.”

“No it wouldn’t,” Altair replied, his hand still at his side. “You didn’t know and my actions… they were done as if you have. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“My manners are not what they used to be.” Selma wasn’t going to let it slide. She was supposed to be able to observe and the fact that she had failed miserably and in the process hurt her beloved friend… She was accepting blame too.

Altair saw that she wasn’t going to let it go. If it was a fault or a virtue, it was accepting her responsibility in things. That and the old man had mentioned periodically while they were growing up that women did have to be submissive. Selma was anything but that but she always seemed to feel guilty if she perceived she went too far. Not wanting to argue further, he replied, “Time changed things Little Falcon. Perhaps patience is needed?”

It was not directly asking but Selma took it for what it was. It was his way of asking her to stay. Besides she had said something similar when they were on the road to Masyaf. It would be a slow process to get back to the friendly footing they had before. She nodded, “Perhaps.”

“Please… stay. I would appreciate your assistance in my mission.” It was hard for him since he didn’t like to ask for help.

Selma studied Altair. She realized that he was taking a big step in asking for help. He never did that when they were children but then again it was more like snatching whatever it was away and doing it themselves. No asking was done… at least none she could remember. Looking into his eyes she saw that he really did want her to stay and to accompany him. She couldn’t refuse without hurting his feelings and she didn’t want to do that. Swallowing slightly she nodded and replied, “I would like to accompany you to Jerusalem.”

****

Jerusalem was the holiest of cities. It was holy to the Christians, the Jews and the Muslims and the principle reason for this ‘holy crusade’. It was a city of history and thus the center of appeal for Selma. It was one of the oldest cities in this part of the world with its secrets of history and time though it was hardly reflected with the way things were in the city.

War affected all peoples. Not just the soldiers who had to fight but those that got left behind. The ones who were given charge to take care of those that couldn’t fight ended up getting divided; some took advantage of the state of affairs to gain power and prominence. Then there was the looming threat of occupation with the occupying forces imposing their rule on the masses. All at the same time there were those forces that worked behind the scenes to undermine those that were readily apparent. It was a complex web that wove a larger picture.

Selma was aware that something else was at work since it seemed rather ridiculous that Al Mualim would send Altair to assassinate a mere trafficker of slaves. From her view the man could be caught and be brought to justice. It was just another lesson to her on looking beyond the immediate and towards the distance and sometimes elusive. It was something to think about but she made a promise to herself to not interfere since this was Altair’s mission.

She had agreed to accompany him after their nightly chase that ended with Altair taking a fall. They didn’t speak any more of what happened but came to a silent agreement that neither would leave without the other in the morning. It was reminiscent of the few times that they would agree to disagree but it wasn’t that amicable then. They were children then and their way of handling it then was to essentially not talk to each other. This time it was more of an agreement to give each other space.

They left in the morning after Al Mualim gave Altair instructions to gather his information on Talal, the slave trader. It was rather quiet; the horses were unusually quiet as they left the fortress of Masyaf. The only thing that broke that silence was Abbas making a snide comment about Altair bootlicking with the Arbiters. Altair would have said something but Selma gave a shove with her boot on the man’s shoulder. It sent the man sprawling into the dirt and causing the passing journeymen and assassins to laugh.

It gave Selma satisfaction to do as such since Abbas had always caused trouble. He seemed to think that he stood a chance with her when they were younger. She never liked him; something about him didn’t sit well and she avoided him whenever possible with her main sanctuary in the gardens since those women knew a thing or two about deceit and hiding. She glanced downward at Abbas, the shadow of her hood masking her face like it would an assassin, and said, “It is a wise man who knows when to seek help.”

It certainly improved the mood on the journey. Kifah and Qismat certainly were lighter in their steps on the road to Jerusalem. The many days’ journey had been quiet. Selma only spoke when necessary and only regarding such as where to stay while on the road and basic conversation. Neither of them wanted to disturb the good feelings that they were starting out with and Selma noticed that Altair seemed to become more withdrawn the closer they got to the holy city. It made her start wondering why she even agreed to accompany him when it was clear that it was agitating him.

They passed by some ruins and Selma turned to look with fascination. She always liked looking at ruins of people that existed long before those of today. It had her pondering about those people. Who they were, what they did; did they have hopes and dreams? It was thought provoking and often led to thinking about what to do in this life and where this life was heading.

“That is where Al Mualim sent me and two others.”

Selma turned to look at Altair. He was looking straight ahead at the road and not at anything in particular. It occurred to her that he was opening up about what it was about the city that had him in the somber mood he was in. “I see,” was all she felt was good enough to offer and it felt awkward. She looked downward and put her hands on the saddle horn since Qismat was content with keeping with Kifah’s pace.

Altair half expected more questions. Certainly when they were children, Selma had questions for everything. It was mostly about why the brotherhood did certain things a certain way. It tended to annoy the older brothers but it amused Rauf to no end. Altair grew used to it since she was genuinely curious about what he was training to be. To not hear anything like that especially with something like his failure… it was disconcerting. “Do you?”

“What is it you wish me to say?”

“At least ask what you want to ask. It is what you do, Little Falcon.”

“Not if they will make you uncomfortable.”

Altair paused since any retort could lead to a repeat of the day before. He could see that she was respecting his feelings. Trouble was that even though he didn’t want her to know his shame, he wanted her to understand and that it was not her. Instead he remained silent and it sent a different message altogether.

“I now question the wisdom of my accompanying you.”

Altair looked up to see that Selma had actually started to drift back. He stopped Kifah and turned to see Selma just sitting there on her horse, her hands on the saddle… like she was being a woman. He couldn’t describe it any other way and he never liked it. To him it was like she was giving up; the side he liked best was her vibrancy for life, the questioning and joining in on the training. Yes she was a woman but she was an equal and this… “I apologize.”

Selma looked up from where she was sitting on Qismat. She had been in thought and hadn’t realized her imp of a horse had dropped back. Now she could see that there was a distance between her and her beloved friend. He had turned to look at her even though she couldn’t see his eyes because of the hood. “No need.” She nudged Qismat to catch up. “I… just don’t want you to be… distracted.” She then pushed onward.

Altair had no words to say to that. He wished that he never acted the way he did after leaving Al Mualim’s study. Then there wouldn’t be this barrier between them. It was like his folly at the temple and it angered and saddened him. He couldn’t undo it and it… Nothing he said would make it as before. Again he hadn’t considered the consequences of his actions. He was a novice.

The journey continued in silence. Altair noticed that Selma didn’t even bother to look at the city or comment on anything. She did allow him to help her down from Qismat, the only action betraying that she was not a man. She said, “Perhaps the suq will help.”

“Indeed,” Altair replied waiting for her to go first.

Selma looked at the city as she entered through the gate. She noted the buildings, the people and of course the city guards. She had been to other cities previously and yet there was something about Jerusalem that had a certain appeal. She could recall the first time she had accompanied her father and mother to that city for a pilgrimage to the mosque and her mouth hung open. Now she took in the sights with quiet rapture as she walked beside Altair. She knew that he was trying to open up about what had him not anxious to come here and she wasn’t making it easier but she couldn’t help but feel he was right. Her mother did once tell her that she needed to behave more like a lady even if she needed to learn the skills of fighting.

It had been a gentle rebuke then but since that time, it always struck Selma to point where she thought she had failed. She wasn’t blind and had noticed that the men at Al-Nasrah were interested in her; they were good prospects but the moment they learned she was a Master Librarian and could fight, they turned away. Even those that were once friends didn’t quite know how to interact with her whenever she exhibited her talents and they knew about it. So when Altair said his comment, it hurt deeply and she was willing to be the weeping woman and leave. To stand up for herself... it would only invite more of the disapproval she was certain others thought.

Altair, his mind was on the mission, but it was also on his friend. He couldn’t stand her quietness that just seemed to grow the moment they entered the city. You could say that at times she wasn’t there since she was that quiet. She was listening and observing, that he was certain, but it was different and it added to his shame, his anger and guilt. It also hurt when he considered that what he said had hurt his Little Falcon.

He couldn’t say much of anything since they found a crier extolling the virtues of Talal, his target. He wanted to curse when she slipped away but it was only to get to a better position and to cut off the man’s escape and drive him towards where he could be questioned. It worked since no one thought twice about an Arbiter being there until she subtly suggested she was more than that. It allowed Altair to corner the man and question him.

He had finished executing the man when Selma joined him and nodded. Altair sighed, “Please don’t torture me with silence. Tell me what I have done wrong.”

“It is not you my beloved friend,” Selma replied softly. “Tis my own doing.” She offered a small smile. “Perhaps we should head towards the Bureau?”

It was hardly satisfying to Altair but at least she was talking to him. He led the way when they chanced upon one of the informers for the brotherhood. He gestured for her to stay close as the informer spoke, “Safety and peace Altair. We live in harsh times do we not? He is what I learned about Talal. He’s a powerful slaver who occupies and area north of town, near the babacan. He pays a tribute to the city guards so he can operate in the shadows.”

Altair nodded. That was valuable indeed. “Thank you. Safety and peace.”

“Safety and peace again to Altair and to you Arbiter.”

Selma nodded and replied, “Safety and peace.”

It was enough to report to the rafiq. Altair led the way along the rooftops when he found that Selma was hanging back again. He paused and turned to see her following but almost hesitantly. He had to settle this. When she was close enough, he pulled her by the arm in a firm but gentle grip, surprising her thoroughly and hid in one of the gardens. “Little Falcon, this needs to stop.”

Selma said nothing but stared at Altair boldly. It relieved him a little since he was afraid that she had lost that fire he remembered so well. It also encouraged him to continue, “I was upset yes because I was and still am ashamed about my failure here. I didn’t want you to come because I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

“I couldn’t ever,” Selma whispered. She had been shocked when he grabbed her and hidden them in this garden. “My intention was to reacquaint.”

“I realize that now. In the years I’ve known you, you have never been cruel. I should have remembered and I know I’ve hurt you.” Altair studied her as she looked at him with her reddish brown eyes. The flicker of life she carried in them started coming back. “I can’t change things but I want to make them right. Please… stay with me.” He offered his hand.

Selma looked at the proffered hand. It was like he used to do when he asked her to come and later when it became a silent plea to trust him. She had been thinking and she felt better hearing what he had to say. She wouldn’t leave him. With a slight smile she put her hand into his. “Then I will stay.”

It was enough and Altair couldn’t help but smile at her in return. She always had a way of doing that and he hadn’t had a reason to smile in a long time. Not even Adha was able to achieve that. He led her out of the garden and to where the entrance of the bureau was on the roof. “I know you don’t know everything but…”

Selma understood Altair was trying to explain things. She put her free hand over the one covering hers. “Your mission first. As you taught me.”

Altair nodded since he had taught her that. He released her hand, feeling great reluctance to. He leapt down into the bureau with the ease of practice, boots tapping the ground, followed by hers. He walked in and came across a startling sight.


	10. Chapter 10

Selma knew something was off the moment she saw Altair’s back stiffen and she paused in her steps. She recognized the man that was at the counter and her heart swelled with happiness at seeing another old friend but the manner of Altair’s posture as well as that of the rafiq… it was enough to cause her to hesitate. She didn’t know if her presence would be a hindrance or an aide and she was lost. She remained just inside by the door and had her head lowered.

“Safety and peace Malik,” Altair offered, feeling slight disdain but also regret at the sight. Malik had turned slowly to greet him and in so doing showed him emptiness where there was once a left arm. He kept his thoughts to himself as it dawned on him that the best Masyaf had weren’t enough to save the limb after _he_ led them into the folly that caused the damage by de Sable’s men. When he recognized the man, Altair had lowered his head in respect to his losses.

Malik had turned to see Altair and deliberately turned slowly to reveal what the former Master Assassin’s arrogance had cost him and cost Masyaf. It was a glaring reminder of Altair’s failure and he felt nothing but disdain as he spat, “Your presence here deprives me of both. What do you want?”

The words were hardly kind in their tone and Altair accepted that. He replied in civil tone since he recognized that he should treat Malik with nothing but humility and respect. He also dreaded how this would turn out since Selma would be seeing the consequences of what he wanted to tell her. Now he felt like he should have been insistent and said something beforehand but now, like everything else, it was too late. The only thing he could do was to continue forward. “Al Mualim has asked…”

Malik had not noticed a second visitor lingering. Had he noticed who was there, he would have tailored his words to be more polite while still conveying his disdain for the assassin before him. As it were, he didn’t and interrupted, “Asked that you perform some task in an effort to redeem yourself? So be out with it.” He gestured dismissively and turned to grab the ledger. It was then that he noticed the shadow by his door.

“Very well,” Altair countered with a slight hard edge to his tone, “Here is what I know. The target is Talal, who traffics in human lives. He kidnaps Jerusalem’s citizens and sells them into slavery. His base is a warehouse located inside the barbican north of here. As we speak, he prepares a caravan for travel. I’ll strike when he’s inspecting his stock. If I can avoid his men, Talal himself should prove little challenge.”

Malik curled his lip into sneer, “Little challenge? Listen to you. Such arrogance.” He then gestured in Selma’s direction, “Do you hear this Arbiter?”

Altair braced himself for anything that Selma would say that would probably be her shattered view of him. He knew that Malik was right since he had underestimated the guards in Acre and nearly had his head cut off… until she saved him. Instead he heard, “At face value it is full of arrogance but perhaps merely because there is no other means of presenting itself. Confidence is all well and good.”

Malik recognized who it was by the voice. No one spoke that soft except for the falcon of Al-Nasrah. He was surprised to see her after five years but he didn’t regret the manner in which he had just spoken to Altair. He knew she wasn’t blind to anything except for the assassin before him. Perhaps this would open her eyes more. “It is one thing to have confidence but to assume that everything you do is right…”

“True,” Selma replied, calmly interrupting. She glanced at Altair and hoped she was not repeating what happened in Al Mualim’s study. She was getting another piece to that mystery and yet it was clear that she may have made a grave mistake. “Perhaps the display of confidence is to show that a lesson is learned.”

Malik scoffed at that, “I hardly think so.”

Altair knew that this could go on for a length of time and Malik would take the opportunity to educate Selma on things that it was perceived she was blind to. He knew she always tried to see the best in people until she acknowledged for herself that they were a lost cause and that was what he feared greatly in terms of his standing with her. Deciding to end it, he said, “Are we finished? Are you satisfied with what I’ve learned?”

“More likely the Arbiter learned it for you,” Malik muttered more under his breath but loud enough for Altair to hear. Louder he said, “No. I would have thought you’d learn more from our friends.”

Altair said nothing at that. He couldn’t look at Selma but kept his focus on Malik. “Do you wish me to find more?”

Malik raised his brow at that as he fished out a feather. “No. What you have will have to do.” He placed it on his counter for Altair to take. “Rest, prepare, cry in a corner. Do whatever it is you do before a mission. Only make sure you do it quietly.”

It was a dismissal and Altair knew it. He paused though, wanting to say something as he took in the pinned up sleeve of a dai’s robe. He wanted to say something but he realized at that moment that nothing he could say or do would atone for what consequences that Malik had suffered. There would be no forgiveness here and he couldn’t even hope to gain any. So he silently turned and left, pausing only to cast the briefest of looks at Selma before going over to the fountain and up onto the roof.

Selma had felt the disdain that could turn into sheer hatred if it was allowed to fester. She feared it already had given the manner that Malik had spoken to Altair. She didn’t know what it was but she was convinced that the path of friend turned against friend was upon her again… much like what happened between Abbas and Altair.

Selma knew that Altair would wait for her and she knew that he needed a moment to think. She looked at Malik and stepped more inside, “Safety and peace, Malik.”

“Safety and peace to you Al-Fakhir.”

Selma swallowed slightly, “Tell me: is this how you greet an old friend?”

“I fear my manners are not what they should be.” Malik continued to do his work as he pulled out a roll of parchment.

“I can see that.”

“What business do the Arbiters have with the brotherhood?” Malik looked up, not wanting to be confrontational about the whole thing. He remembered their debates when they were younger and they often ended up with one or both paying a forfeit. This wasn’t then but still…

“Trying to solve a puzzle, old friend,” Selma offered. She glanced at the missing arm. “The holy wars have brought questions that have been sought to be answered.”

“Such as?” Malik was certain he was going to be questioned about what happened. This was how their conversations always started.

“To start, the tensions within the holy city. They are troubling.”

“You’ve just heard. As unsatisfactory it is, that is what it is.”

“I mean between that between friends.”

Malik looked up from his drawings. Now it was out. “There hasn’t been friendship in a long time Selma.”

Selma nodded as she looked down at the spotless counter. She noticed that Malik was sketching out a map of the city. She could see that they could go back and forth all day and they used to do that when they were younger. She just wasn’t sure what to say and how to say it.

Malik saw the look on her face. She wanted to know what happened but she was afraid of asking. It was startling to see since he had never known her to be afraid of anything. It seemed that time away from Masyaf had changed her in some way. She was as beautiful as he remembered; her skin still that same smoothness, and her hair was probably the same sleekness, like a bird’s wing. It was covered by her hood now but…

Malik had always liked her. At one point he thought he was in love with her but it was merely admiration. She possessed a strength that most of the brotherhood strove to achieve and it came so naturally to her. He admired her ability to reason and come up with solutions to problems that had been encountered. He could recall he once said that had she been a boy, she would have made an excellent assassin. Thinking about it now, it sounded a little insulting.

“Could you tell me, old friend?”

It was a gentle request and one that caused Malik to feel that he was being rebuked for his manner towards Altair. Yet he sensed it wasn’t about that but he couldn’t help but retort, “Have you not asked Altair?”

“I asked you.” Selma gave Malik a firm look to indicate that she wanted him to answer her question. “Please Malik, what has caused more tension here in the holy city?”

“I do not wish to burden you with my troubles. Besides you have already heard it. It was arrogance.” Malik stepped back from his work and started pacing more in agitation at everything else.  “Arrogance cost me my arm.” He paused, knowing that his voice was a little bit louder than he liked.

“Surely it was an error in judgment?”

“An error?” Malik stopped to stare at Selma directly in the eye. “Tell me something Arbiter: is it an error in judgment to completely disregard the creed? The same creed to which you have been taught and follow?”

“The creed is a guide, not a dictate,” Selma replied.

“It does dictate our actions and Altair firmly disregarded it and in so doing disgraced himself and the brotherhood.”

Selma blinked at Malik’s words. She heard the anger and the hurt in Malik’s voice. It was more than a lost arm though it could be that and the disgrace that accompanied not following the creed. “Brother,” she said, using the term of affection he permitted her to use even though they weren’t blood related, “Disgrace comes from compromising the brotherhood. Surely…”

“It is what he has done.” Malik didn’t give her a moment to finish. “He broke the first two in the beginning. The last…” He sighed, “It was arrogance.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

Selma stared at Malik. Did she understand? She had spent her three moons every year with the brotherhood whereas they spent their entire lives with each other. The realization that she could never hope to understand was clear. She nodded and said, “I don’t and probably never will. Give my regards to Kadar. I did not see him at Masyaf.” She turned to leave.

“Kadar is dead.”

Selma paused and let the words sink in. That was the other part. Now she could see a little. She turned to look back at the dai, “I am sorry, Brother.”

“Why should you be? You were not the one on that mission.”

“But I was fond of Kadar. He was a good friend.” Selma didn’t say more since she knew that Kadar actually had a soft spot for her. He actually wanted to court her but refrained from doing so and she suspected it may have been Altair’s doing but Altair liked the boy. It seemed that she discovered the shadow hanging over her beloved friend’s shoulders but it seemed to have been cast over others as well. “I have bothered you enough. I shall be on my way. Safety and peace, Brother.”

“Your presence brings both, Sister,” Malik offered. “Perhaps it will bring the same to all things.” Even though he was harboring resentment against Altair at the moment, he couldn’t help but hope that the presence of Selma would change things. It seemed that it was a sign in some way.

“Perhaps.” Selma offered a smile. She paused before leaving and turned back. “Perhaps you could look after my beloved friend?”

Malik eyed her suspiciously until she stood under the opening and lifted her arm. He blinked as a beautiful hawk landed on her gauntlet and she immediately stroked the bird’s breast. His features relaxed as she turned towards him. He nodded, “He may stay provided he doesn’t make a mess.”

“And maybe keep the rodent population in check,” Selma offered with a smile. “Thank you.”

Malik gave her a wave of dismissal after she set Ibn on the counter. She gave the bird a final pet and turned to head out of the bureau. She found the footholds and climbed up with ease. She half expected to see Altair hold out his hand to her but no such offer came. After heaving herself up, she scanned the roof but her eagle was nowhere in sight. She had been left behind.

****

Altair scanned the streets below before jumping down. He didn’t need to attract the attention of any city guards or Talal’s men. He paused briefly in regret that he left Selma behind but… It wasn’t pride that left her behind. True it could prove that he could perform this task alone but his reason was more for her sake.

He knew that Selma and Malik had been close. They were equals on an intellectual level and Kadar… Kadar worshipped the very ground she walked on. So he wasn’t going to deny her the chance to become reacquainted with the new rafiq of Jerusalem. He knew though that it led to a greater chance of his worst fear but he would have to accept it. It would just be another regret that he would have to live with especially if she felt that he left her behind and the truth was… he did.

He knew that Al Mualim had a purpose with the orders and edicts he gave. No doubt he allowed her to accompany him more as a means to show that even an outsider to the brotherhood understood and lived the creed better than he. Certainly Selma understood that and instead of learning from her, he rejected her teachings even if she wasn’t aware of it and tarnished what little remained of their relationship… if it existed. They were thoughts of self-pity but also harsh lessons too and he brushed them aside to think about later as he focused on the upcoming task.

He managed to find the entrance to Talal’s base. It was as the informer had said and what his other sources told him. From the looks of things, he was glad he had not waited for Selma to come. He sensed that there was something off about this place and he may have caused Malik his pain but he wasn’t going to be foolish and harm his little falcon by dragging her into something that could prove trouble.

Altair looked at the entrance before walking in. He was immediately caught by surprise when the door shut behind him and he could heard the bolt slide into place, locking him in. He stared at the door, realizing that he wasn’t going to be leaving the same way he came in. That meant the way out was the way forward. Slowly he turned to look forward and found that it might be more difficult than he thought.

Altair pressed forward through the place. The darkness was abated slightly by the torches left behind to provide something to be guided by. It would allow for him to walk with being killed by whatever supplies were left behind and he could look out better for any potential threats. For the moment though it was quiet. The only sounds that he heard came from his boots as they thumped on the ground.

A low thump and a rattle caught his attention forcing him to press against the wall. Altair leaned over to peer around the corner to look for any sign of the guards. Another thump sounded and this time it came from the ground and sounded quite close. He looked down to find a face looking up at him. The expression was hollow almost, like the poor soul lost hope of ever getting free. Looking up, Altair looked around to get a better look of what he had walked into.

True he had learned that Talal had been trafficking in Jerusalem’s citizens. No doubt the man picked people that would hardly be missed but they were still people. They were the innocents that the creed spoke of to protect. He just didn’t expect to see what he saw there even though he was well aware of what a dungeon looked like having spent time in one when he disobeyed Al Mualim once before and told Abbas the truth about his father and that started them both on the path they were now. The look was the same.

He had told Abbas the truth about his father. He was young then and from his observations of Abbas, he thought the truth would comfort him. Instead Abbas accused him of being a liar. That was when they were called for a demonstration by Rauf, the elderly assassin who was teaching them their swordsmanship. Altair should have seen that Abbas meant to do him physical harm and in a more permanent fashion the moment he chose to use a real blade. He didn’t though and at the time he wanted to impress his little falcon with his improvement.

They battled until it became apparent that Abbas was filled with the desire to kill him. Altair did what he could to defend himself but Abbas kept coming and coming. Finally things snapped and Abbas accused him of liar and he said it was the truth. It was later that he admitted that he had lied and that it was intended to shame Abbas. It was a lie swallowed by everyone but Al Mualim knew the truth and Selma accepted what he said but he felt that she didn’t believe his lie. She swallowed it and for good reason since she was a guest at Masyaf. In the end both he and Abbas were thrown into the dungeon for a time as punishment.

She had been forbidden to see him but she disobeyed. Altair remembered it as a shock since she never disregarded Al Mualim’s word before. She came to see both of them and to speak with them. Abbas rejected her words of comfort and told her to go away. Altair tried to convince her to leave to avoid trouble but she stayed. In the end it started a path of hatred towards each other and on Abbas’ end it extended to Selma, which culminated in Altair catching Abbas trying to assault her after she prevented him from killing him in a sneak attack.

Altair shook the memory away as he looked around. It was then that his keen eyes saw a shadow from up above. Someone had been watching and probably waiting for him to come. If he had to venture a guess, it was the slaver himself. He turned to look at a man that was huddling in a cage by the wall. This was… It disgusted Altair with what he was seeing even more so than what Garnier was doing to the people he was supposed to have helped. There wasn’t much that Altair could do at this point since he didn’t have the means to free anyone. Besides he was on a mission and that was to put the sting of his blade into Talal.

Looking around, Altair sought a means to get up to that upper level. There were several ways to take. It was just a matter of choosing one. However, it seemed that his path was to be chosen for him. As soon as he stepped towards one way, the door clanged shut and its imposing barbs were made clear. It happened when he turned the other way and the same thing happened. He was being forced to move forward and probably into a place that gave the advantage to his target.

He was familiar with the boxing in strategy. His lip curled into a defiant sneer as he spat, “What now slaver?”

“Don’t call me that,” came the voice from the shadows, “I only wish to help them. As I myself was helped.”

Altair made a soft scoffing noise as he moved forward in the only way open towards him. He ignored the poor souls that were caged and one that was held by his wrists to the wall. There was nothing to do. “You do no kindness imprisoning them like this.”

“Imprisoning them?” The voice of Talal was indignant at the idea that he was keeping people prisoner. He sought to justify the means, “I keep them safe, preparing them for the journey that lies ahead.”

“What journey?” Altair demanded the answer. He looked around while glancing upwards at the shadows. “It is a life of servitude.”

The chuckles were not reassuring as Altair looked around. It was meant to mock him but he wouldn’t let it as he heard, “You know nothing. It was folly to bring you here. To think that you might see and understand.”

“I understand well enough,” Altair countered, “Show yourself.”

There was no response at first and it had Altair wary and alert. Then the clink of a door being opened caught his attention and he turned to see the gate open. He narrowed his eyes at this. It was obvious that it was a trap of sorts. Unfortunately there was no way out of it except to play the game. The rules could be changed… he just had to look for the opportunity. He started walking forward since it was the only way out.

“Please, help me. Save me.”

Altair turned to see a man poking his hand out, reaching out towards him. He had to kill the slaver if these people were to be set free. He didn’t blinked but merely stared and accepted the plea for help. He would do what he could. He turned to look at the way that was opened to him. He was definitely marching to probably his doom but he would do what he had to do… as long as he remembered the creed. He stepped forward and into the next room, ignoring the begging from the imprisoned men not to go forward.

As soon as he was through, the door shut behind him. The door on the other side of the room was sealed shut. There was no way out but up. He noted a few potential things to climb up and get out. He just had to locate his target first, get him to show himself. The rest would follow. He looked around and heard the man chuckle and wasn’t impressed but he wouldn’t be overconfident either.

“Ah you want to see the man who called you here,” the voice said in a matter of fact tone.

“You did _not_ call me here,” Altair corrected forcefully. He turned in the direction he was certain the voice came from. “I came on my own.” He noted the guards that were starting to creep in. It seemed that things were going to become difficult.

“Hah! Did you?” The mocking chuckles filled the room as the voice continued, “Who unbarred the door? Cleared the path? Did you once raise you blade against a single man of mine? Huh?” The voice paused for Altair to answer but when none came it added, “No. All this, I did _for_ you.”

Altair didn’t believe that for a second though he had to admit that he hadn’t seen a single guard since he entered. His attention was turned to the sound of a door in the roof opening to let in the light and the demand followed, “Step into the light then and I will grant you one final favor.”

Knowing that it would probably make him an easier target to spot, Altair stepped into the square of light. Immediately Talal’s men jumped down with their blades drawn. Now that they knew where he was, they could attack and try to kill him. Normally Altair would have felt foolish about this but he already had that moment when he had first realized he had been caught. Now it was a means of trying to find an escape. He turned when he heard footsteps and saw a man with a bow slung across his back step into the light up above. So that was his target.

Talal looked down at his captured assassin and gestured, “Now I stand before you. What is it you desire?”

“Come down here,” Altair replied as he pulled his blade, “Let us settle this with honor.”

Talal shook his head, “Why must it always come to violence?” He looked down at the assassin and sighed in exasperation before continuing, “It seems that I cannot help you for you do not wish to help yourself. And I cannot allow my work to be threatened. You leave me no choice. You must die.”

Altair narrowed his eyes as Talal gave the order with a wave of his hand and walked away. He then turned his attention to the guards that were surrounding him. He had to deal with them first and it appeared that he might be outnumbered. He held his blade out in a defensive posture as they got their blades out. He studied them as they slowly advanced to encircle him. “Prepare to taste my blade,” he murmured just as the first guard lashed out with a strike.


	11. Chapter 11

Selma ran across the rooftops since it was quicker than trying to navigate the streets. There were fewer people there and most people didn’t pay attention to what was going on above. However there were the guards that patrolled that walked the rooftops. Those she had to avoid lest they mistake her for something other than an Arbiter. It didn’t help that she had her bow slung over her shoulders.

When she discovered that Altair had left and didn’t wait for her, she felt a bit of anger but it was overshadowed by her worrying. It had her wondering if her beloved friend overheard her conversation with Malik. It wasn’t like she had said anything that was bad but she could see how it would be misleading. Things were not good at the moment between her and Altair and had her wondering if her beloved friend was lost to her.

_Another thing that time has taken from me._

Selma continued in the direction of the badican based on the information from the informant. It was all she had to go on and Altair had been given leave to assassinate the slaver. She paused on a rooftop and squatted while looking at the view. Even the slums had a view from the rooftops. It was different… it helped understand how a bird must feel.

Sighing she looked towards the ground for any signs of Talal or his men. She was there to help but deep down, it could be a blow to Altair’s pride. She didn’t want to do that and she couldn’t help but wonder if she had done that already when she chased him in Acre. Now that they were adults, things were different; they weren’t children anymore and could take it like it was nothing. It was a lot to hope for that things hadn’t changed much; they obvious had and Malik made that clear.

Shaking her head, Selma’s attention was drawn to the guards that were running in formation towards a building. They weren’t guards of the city; she was going with the assumption that they were Talal’s men. Brushing everything aside, her expression became firm and she positioned herself and leapt off to follow. She would tail them and find exactly where the slaver was but she wouldn’t interfere unless it was dire and that would be should she would lose her beloved friend. She would not make the same mistake twice.

The trail led her to a large building, the kind that goods would be stored for transport and by goods that meant the people Talal was selling as slaves. Her throat convulsed a little at the thought of that. She had been around slaves before and the range of treatment… it could be pretty appalling and she also felt pity. It was a question of asking what gave a man the right to enslave another for whatever reason. It was one she wasn’t equipped to answer and felt that it would drive her crazy if she tried. Right now she could do what she can if possible.

Skirting along the rooftops, she found a window entrance to where the guards had entered. She could get in through there since the doors were barred shut the moment the guards went in. She checked to make sure that her bow was secure to be within easy reach before leaping down and sliding into the window.

The place was dark and there were plenty of shadows to hide within. That was pretty much the fun part about the assassins, being one with the crowds and becoming invisible. Granted there was the bloodier aspect of it that she rather would avoid but she could see a few things. And she had good teachers and followed their advice as she slunk from above.

It was despairing to hear the pleas and moans of people begging to be let out. She had never really met those being sold into slavery and the conditions they had lived in. She had met a few slaves and she really didn’t like the whole business. It hadn’t been her place to intervene then since she was on an assignment that required she not reveal who she was. Since then, she subtly suggested that the order make suggestions regarding slavery. Al-Nasrah didn’t have slavery but it didn’t stop the way how the social classes treated each other.

Selma wasn’t naïve. At least she thought she wasn’t since she knew that she couldn’t really solve all of the world’s problems. Things like slavery… it was one of those larger tasks that ended up being too big for one person. She wished to help though and looked around. She knew that the slaver’s men would be around probably try to prevent them from escaping. Unless they had a distraction.

It sounded callous for her since she was going to exploit Altair’s mission of dealing with the slaver. She was making a big assumption that the slaver would have guards with him. It left Altair outnumbered but she knew that he could fight several opponents at once. It was part of the training that all assassins in training learned and perfected over the years. She learned how; herself and her recent escapade with the bandits and the woman merchant was a testament to that. It just felt wrong in that she was exploiting an opening but it was something that Altair would encourage.

Steeling her resolve, she looked around the area she was at. She looked at the cell closest to her and she asked, “You there. Do you know the inside of this place?”

“Ah the beautiful lady notices a poor, humble servant.” The man grabbed the sleeve of her robe and attempted to touch her hand.

Selma withdrew her hand. She knew this kind of man now since a couple of times she had met a couple of lechers. There were some who were genuine in their adulation and she knew the difference. Five years taught her quite a bit and her years at Masyaf taught her how to look out for people like that. Still she knew that if she was going to do something, she would have to start with the potential slaves that were rotting here.

“Please, don’t leave,” the man begged.

“I am not going anywhere,” Selma replied as she looked down at the man who was now on his knees in his cell. “I need you to answer the question.”

The man nodded and replied, “I remember the way they brought us. They bring us to sell us to serve others.”

Selma held up her hand to wave off the man. She didn’t want him to go into a litany. That could take time and time was something she didn’t have much of. She moved her head to listen to what else was going on and that was when she heard it. She heard the sounds of grunts and the clashes of swords. It seemed that Altair had found his target and was being met with resistance. As tempting as it was to go help, she resisted since she knew that Altair has his reasons for leaving her behind and she wasn’t going to risk another blow to his pride. She turned to look back at the man. There was no harm in causing more trouble. She asked, “If I were to release you and the others, would you know how to get out of this place?”

“Yes. I’ll lead the others out.” The man nodded, eager to please. “Please let us out. Help us.”

Selma nodded and looked around for a means of opening the cells. There were some prisoners that were in dungeons. She could see hands reaching out from the floor. There were a lot of them. It looked like the layout was designed to prevent massive prison breaks. And there were some near impossible to reach places but still accessible. She managed to find a lever and a few other odds and ends. She looked at the man and said, “Once you are free lead the others out.”

The man nodded, “Yes. I will. Please. Will the pretty lady let us out?” He grasped the sleeve of her robe again.

Selma gently released his hand and patted it. She turned to head for the lever. It was up high and it sparked that old flare of the liking for scaling heights. She climbed upwards towards the lever and noted where the doors were on the upper level. It seemed that this place was a maze and was ripe for possible ambush.

She paused when she heard voices and they weren’t the voices of prisoners. She bent her head to listen and she heard the tones of a man she didn’t recognize but assumed to be Talal. The other was dear and familiar. She heard Altair’s voice clearly as he spoke to the slaver. From the sound of things it sounded like Altair was on the ground and looking up.

_It seems that I cannot help you for you do not wish to help yourself. And I cannot allow my work to be threatened. You leave me no choice. You must die._

Selma blinked as she heard the unmistakable sound of swords being drawn. She had spent enough time around the weapons master at Al-Nasrah and Rauf at Masyaf to know that they were English blades being drawn. The steel was pretty strong and the cutlass blade that was customary of the Assassins was smaller. The right hit could break the blade and in the end… It depended ultimately on the skill level of the assassin. She had seen enough training sessions to know that it could go either way.

Her first urge was to rush over and help her beloved friend and help him. She resisted though because of what he chose to do and what she decided to do when she followed him. It was painful but even she knew how strong pride could be and what happened with that. Sighing she wrapped her hands around the lever and yanked as hard as she could. Hopefully the prison escape would help out a little.

The noise of gears grinding was more than enough to cause a distraction but it also signaled to the prisoners that they were being set free. Selma watched from her perch as the prisoners started making their way towards their freedom. She looked on the sight much like a person who was surveying a project or a deed being done. She was certain she had crossed a boundary somewhere in terms of the code of the Arbiters.

_An Arbiter is always objective. He must approach the situation with an open mind._

_Observe and record for knowledge is power. It is from where all decisions are made._

_Never interfere. We must never involve ourselves in the affairs of others. We are merely advisers to those that seek knowledge._

Selma mused over the tenets she had been taught growing up. She believed in them but then she was sent to Masyaf. She was taught the ways of the assassins. It started shading things since she could now fight. She knew that it was to defend the Arbiters since bandits liked to take one and kill them for whatever was in their pouches.

A noise caught her attention and she turned to see a door open. Out rushed guards and their swords were drawn. They started heading towards the prisoners with the intent to kill or round them up and put them back. Selma did the only thing that she knew to be right and it was automatic.

Leaping down, she landed in the middle of the group and it effectively stopped them. She was hunched over and ready to react. The group though was looking at her like she had just fallen from the sky; they had no idea what to make of her and one of them exclaimed, “An Arbiter.”

There were some murmurs while Selma looked at them. She hadn’t drawn her blade and her bow was strung across her back. She would not present herself to be a threat unless necessary. She looked at them and asked, “And what are you going to do now that you’ve seen me?”

It wasn’t really a taunt. It was an honest question but the situation made it seem like one. And it didn’t help that she hadn’t disguised her voice. It was evident when one of them replied in surprise, “A woman? What trick is this?”

Selma was ready for the swords being drawn. If she had been a man, they wouldn’t have attacked. At least they wouldn’t have if they thought something worse than what their leader would have done to them. She dodged the first strike and dived for the ground, rolling. With that motion she pulled out her sword and came about to block the incoming strikes.

It was enough to distract the guards to allow the prisoners to escape. And it was unavoidable that she had to kill them. She thrust her blade through the last one and stood there. She didn’t have time to take a breather since more guards started coming and there were more than she could handle alone. It was time to leave.

Turning she headed up and out since the way on the ground was shut. She managed to find what looked to be a window and climbed onto the rooftops. She quickly got to the ground and ran through the streets of Jerusalem. She didn’t take a direct route to the bureau since she wasn’t going to bring Malik trouble. She slowed enough to blend in with the crowd and walked through the streets like she was one of them.

The bureau was within sights after she clambered back onto the rooftops. She paused only when she noticed a bunch of soldiers running by. She stood still to let them pass. No one was going to look up. Even with the bells ringing out the alarm, no one noticed her. She was tense until she dropped down into the bureau with a light thud.

Malik was actually in the courtyard taking care of things when she dropped in. He turned when he heard her step and said, “I know that wasn’t you causing the commotion.”

“I may have had a hand in that,” Selma replied as she lowered her hood. She was in Malik’s presence and she had always been comfortable around him. “Setting slaves free.”

Malik raised his brow at her. He knew her to be bold but that was a little extreme. “Then you did cause the commotion,” he said. “You are a novice.”

“Always was one,” Selma replied with a smile as she walked forward and proceeded to help Malik with what he needed. All the while she thought about Altair and if he was all right. She maintained her stoic disposition until she heard him drop into the bureau.

****

“You’ve nowhere to run now,” Altair spoke in a low voice after lowering his target to the ground. He had chased Talal after defeating his men. The man chose to escape once the noise from the prison began and chaos erupted. Altair took no notice of it but gave chase. Talal was the target and now he had him. “Share your secrets with me.”

“My part is played. The brotherhood is not so weak that my death will stop its work,” Talal spat.

“What brotherhood?” Altair didn’t understand. This was not what he was expecting.

Talal gave a slight smile at that since it was clear that Altair didn’t know the truth. He replied, “Al Mualim is not the only one with designs upon the Holy Land. And that’s all you’ll have from me.”

Altair didn’t know what to make of it but the man’s position was clear so he would finish it. “Then we are finished. Beg forgiveness from your God.”

Talal laughed weakly as death started to creep upon him, “There is no God, Assassin. And if there ever was, he’s long abandoned us. Long abandoned the men and women I took into my arms.” He sighed almost as if full of regret.

“What do you mean?”

“Beggars. Whores. Addicts. Lepers… Do they strike you as proper slaves?” Talal looked up at the assassin as if he would make it so the man would understand. “Unfit for even the most menial tasks. No… I took them not to sell, but to save. And yet you’d kill us all… and for no other reason than it was asked of you.”

Altair was confused now. The assassins did great work; Al Mualim sent him to do this task for the Holy Land. No, there were some things that were clear. “No. You profit from the war. From the lives lost and broken.”

Talal chuckled again. This was amusing. He was to be amused even in death. “Yes… You would think that, ignorant as you are. Wall off your mind eh? They say it’s what your kind does best. Do you see the irony in all this?”

Altair merely stared at the dying man. It was the same as with Naplouse and Tamir; their words spoken were trying to confuse him and make him question everything that he believed in. They sought to make him think that they were not what he thought of them when he was assigned to kill them. He was silent as he stared at the dying man.

Talal seemed to think that something affected the assassin. He studied him and replied, “No, not yet it seems.” He gave a slight knowing smile, “But you will.”

Altair watched as the man died in his arms. There were questions that needed answers but he had to think upon them. He would not let himself be hasty with what he had found out until he was certain of the pieces. Absently he thought of his little falcon and that she would agree with this decision. He had to go back and apologize to her.

Reaching out, Altair closed the dead man’s eyes and murmured, “I’m sorry.” He brushed his feather marker to obtain the blood. Standing, he used the training of the Assassins to lose himself in the crowd and left Talal’s corpse on the ground where others would find him.

He made his way back to the bureau through the rooftops. He took the long way around just to make sure that there were no guards following him or he was not being followed by anyone. He would not compromise the brotherhood again. He only paused when he caught sight of Ibn and he seemed to be just surveying from his perch and he wondered why he wasn’t in the bureau.

Tentatively, he stuck out his gauntlet covered hand and his eyes widened ever so slightly when the bird glided down to land. He was surprised at the weight that was somewhere between light heavy and medium heavy, if there was such a thing. It had him wonder how Selma was able to walk and carry this magnificent creature to the point where it seemed she floated on air. Then again she always seemed to do that even when she was running away from him.

He stroked the chest of the falcon and listened to it chirp in a pleased manner. It was fearless of him and it was like it knew him even though they had only met a few days prior. He murmured, “You are truly a beloved friend of my little falcon.”

Ibn merely chirped and gave a playful nip on Altair’s hood. It then took off without putting extra weight on his arm and glided upwards. Altair watched as Ibn flew in the direction of the bureau. He felt calmer having been that close to the falcon… like they knew each other. He hummed as he watched Ibn disappear and he started on his path back to the bureau.

He climbed upwards and onto the rooftops. He gained speed once he was up high and headed back. He did think that there were words he owed to his little falcon. He could only hope that he had not hurt her feelings more than he already had. Whatever the case, he knew that he deserved whatever it was she saw fit to deal out to him. It would certainly give Malik pleasure.

He found the entrance and lowered himself in with as much quiet as he knew how. His toes barely tapped the ground to the point that only the most astute of men could hear. He stood and noticed that Ibn had returned and had made himself comfortable in the area where assassins were given leave to rest. The bird was looking at him like he was greeting him and hadn’t been about previously. If it were human, Altair would have suspected that he was smirking at him.

He turned and walked into the bureau where Malik was busy at his counter. Of Selma, he didn’t see and wondered where she had gone. His attention though was to Malik as the rafiq said with a heavy lacing of sarcasm and disdain, “Altair, it is good to see that you have returned to us. And how fared the mission?”

Altair pulled out the bloodied feather to show Malik, “The deed is done. Talal is dead.”

“Oh I know, I know. In fact the entire city knows!” Malik waved his arm in anger towards Altair as he turned to face the assassin. “Have you forgotten the meaning of subtlety?” He glared at the former master assassin.

“A skilled assassin ensures his work is noticed by the many,” Altair defended himself. He turned away as if to end the conversation.

“No,” Malik sharply pointed out, “A skilled assassin maintains control of his environment.” He lowered his voice but it was still laced with harshness.

“We can argue the details all you like Malik…”

At that moment Selma entered carrying some parchment that she had managed to get after stepping out when she heard Altair’s boots on the bureau floor. It was only a pick up but she suspected that the two men would not say what they wanted to say with her there. She said nothing as she put it on the counter, not looking at either of them.

Altair felt his throat convulse when she didn’t look at him but kept his attention on Malik, “The fact of the matter is that I completed my tasks set to me by Al Mualim.”

Malik glanced at Selma as he reached down to retrieve the book to mark all the tasks being done. He thought about what he wanted to say to Altair while keeping it civil in the presence of Selma. She had done nothing to deserve ire and he didn’t want to show it to her. Thumping the book on the counter he said, “Go then. Return to the old man. Let us see with whom he sides.”

Altair lowered his gaze. His hood was up so that no one could see his expression. He replied calmly as he could, “We are both on the same side, Malik.”

“So you say.”

There was nothing more to say. Normally Altair would have left quickly but given the nature of the city after his mission, he would have to wait. He went out to the courtyard to sit and wait since Malik was disinclined to say anything else. He didn’t look at Selma who was finishing arranging the parchment. He was not her keeper and it was his fault he didn’t get along with Malik. There was no reason to tarnish what she had in her relationship with him.

Altair leaned against one of the cushions and stared at the hole that he had jumped through in thought. He only moved when he heard the chirp from Ibn and looked at the falcon. He lifted his arm to signal that the bird could land and when it did, he rested his arm on his leg for support and took to petting the chest feathers of the bird. It allowed him to wallow in his thoughts and wait until Selma was finished catching up with Malik.

Altair continued to pet the falcon until he saw a piece of dried meat pressed into his view. He looked up to see Selma looking down at him. Her hood was down to reveal her dark locks that were silky smooth. A loose tendril framed the left side of her face reminding him of when they were younger. She really had grown into a beauty that the women in the gardens said she would be.

“Ibn is hungry,” Selma said as she handed the dried meat to him. “Since he trusts you as I do, it makes sense for you to feed him.”

Altair looked up at her, taking in her reddish brown eyes with his golden ones. He slowly reached up and took the proffered meat. “You wish me to feed him?”

Selma looked down at the assassin. She had heard the unspoken words and felt the tension between the two men. She didn’t want to interfere and pretended that nothing happened. She had noticed Altair sit and take company with her falcon. She beseeched Malik for some dried meat and he gave it to her stating that if the bird made a mess she was to clean it up. Now she was there handing it off to Altair. She nodded, “He trusts you as do I.”

Altair stared back as the full weight of her words hit him. He nodded and broke off a piece and held it for Ibn. He didn’t flinch when the head darted forward and deftly plucked the sliver from his hand and began to swallow it. He had barely felt the beak and there were no nips. He looked at Selma who smiled and said, “Trust is a gift and shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

Altair watched as she went back to help Malik. She was leaving him to his thoughts, guessing rightly that they would wait a day before starting back out and returning to Masyaf. He thought about her words; they were words that were precious as a gift and he didn’t aim to take them lightly even if there were tensions between him and Malik.


End file.
